Dance With Me
by It's me get over it
Summary: Haymitch and Effie have been dancing for a long time. Both together and around each other. This is the story of how their lives together, and their love, can be seen around their dances. Based around the song 'Shut Up and Dance'. Further details inside. Rating for one smutty moment; mainly minor swearing.-COMPLETE-
1. 8 AW

This was **originally** going to be a short one-shot song-fic as the song just kept screaming these snippets at me. Then I started writing and, well, it became so much **bigger**. I think my mind went all TARDIS on this. (looks simple and compact till you you step inside and BAM its **huge**!) Then I learnt about Hayffie Week and I was all like 'Yes! I can get this done and share it then. How fitting!'

Unfortunately, that didn't happen. I know what I'm going to write, but this is really getting longer than I'd intended. (and I was wanting to submit for other parts too) So I decided to do a compromise. Today I will put up the first 2 parts of this and the other, I think I'd estimated, 7 parts will be shared later when its finished. (making it 9 parts in total)

Consider this a teaser for what is to come. Please review and let me know what you think.

*I do not own 'The Hunger Games' and it's affiliated characters. I do not own 'Doctor Who' and it's affiliated characters. Nor do I own the rights to the song 'Shut Up and Dance' by Walk the Moon*

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#hayffieweek #haymitchabernathy #effietrinket #inspiredbyasong #shutupanddance

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Haymitch hid his proud smile behind his glass of whiskey, as he watched the kids open the dancing together. Pride swelled within him at how far the two of them had come. Keeping it together when their names were Reaped. Surviving the Hunger Games. Pretending to be happy and in love – not well, but they pretended. Having their life put on display for all of Pamen. Surviving the Hunger Games; again. Surviving the War. Both sticking themselves back together after being shattered by the War. Falling in love; for real this time. They had come a long way and were still able to smile.

The boy leaned in and whispered something in his bride's ear that made the girl smile the smile that won the heart of Panem just under a decade ago. But now it belongs to only one person. That smile was for the boy; and the boy alone.

Yeah, he was proud of his kids.

There was only one other person who could share this pride; the only person in all of Panem that never truly doubted that these two would end up together. That their kids would get their happily ever after. Never doubted that their love was real, even before the girl realised it.

 _Think of the devil._

He smirked as his drink was taken out of his hand and place on the table. A hand hovered before him.

"Can I help you, Princess?"

Long gone were the ridiculous wigs, make up, and too extravagant outfits. In their place was her natural blond hair, done up in a elegant twist, wisps free to frame her face with minimal make up, only to heighten her features. As for her dress, oh that dress, it was his favourite shade of red and she always looked her best in red, and it hugged her figure in all the ways that made him want to drag her into their bedroom but showed only a modest amount of skin, without revealing any of her scars.

She didn't say anything, but kept her hand out expectantly, the grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Go on Uncle Mitch," a pair of blue eyes teased, a smirk hovering on his lips.

"Please Uncle Mitch," a small voice beside them called. "Please."

A pair of eager green eyes watched him closely. Her smile, so reminiscent to her aunt's, imploring him to take the dance floor. He threw a mock glare at the teenage boy for instigating his aunt's assistance; the smirk became a genuine smile. That was his downfall. He could never say no to her, or them, when they all smiled at him like that.

Sighing, he accepted the hand and let her pull him to his feet, towards the dance floor to a small round of cheers. Just before they set their feet on the dance floor he pulled back slightly making her turn.

"I didn't get to finish my drink," he teased.

She didn't bat an eye; instead she grabbed his other hand and backed them onto the dance floor.

"Don't you dare look back," she warned. "Just keep your eyes on me."

He stepped up to her taking the proper dance pose, except much closer than she would ever allow anyone else to be, he whispering into her ear, "You're holding back."

Laughing she whispered back, "Shut up and dance with me."

Grinning he started moving them around in a slow dance that they'd perfected decades ago. It wasn't long before the dance floor was filled with similarly close dancing couples. Haymitch couldn't suppress his grin at having her so close; her smell surrounding him. He wasn't a romantic man, but as sure as the bride and groom were made for each other, he knew that Effie was his and he was hers.

Two -or was it three?- songs later he pulled back as the song became more upbeat and faster paced.

"Why is this so familiar, Princess?"

"What's so familiar?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.

"You dragging me away from my drink and making me dancing with you," he answered, not even hiding his smirk.

Her genuine loud, raucous laugh escaped her, make a few heads turn in surprise at the sound coming from the former pedantic escort. Ignoring the looks she forced his body into moving in time with the new tempo.

"Shut up and dance with me," she commanded.

With fake annoyance he took over the lead of their dance, as other meetings and dances played across his memory.

#hayffieweek #haymitchabernathy #effietrinket #inspiredbyasong #shutupanddance

"Oh don't you dare look back.  
Just keep your eyes on me."  
I said, "You're holding back."  
She said, "Shut up and dance with me!"  
This woman is my destiny  
She said, "Ooh-ooh-hoo, shut up and dance with me."

#hayffieweek #haymitchabernathy #effietrinket #inspiredbyasong #shutupanddance


	2. 55 HG

This is also going to be set in a universe of my own creation that will fit in with my previous story "Passion Lends Them Power". I've got some other parts to go with that universe, but I try to keep them essentially self contained stories. This also involves an idea I have about incorporating 'Doctor Who' characters in 'the Hunger Games' universe. So any names you recognise, odds are I don't own them.

This chapter is where it started really exploding on me, in case the chapter size didn't give it away.

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#hayffieweek #haymitchabernathy #effietrinket #inspiredbyasong #shutupanddance

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Haymitch didn't normally like going to nightclubs or any of the more fancy night spots in the Capitol. Give him a simple dark bar where he could order as many drinks as he liked, occasionally pick a fight with a Capitol citizen and he was happy.

But not tonight.

No, tonight he was forced to go not only to one of the hottest night spot, but one that was trying to raise its reputation. And how do they do that in the Capitol? They pay people to be seen there.

Not that he was getting paid, perse. He was _strongly advised_ to make a number of appearances here, or else it would be a very difficult Games for his Tributes. The two kids didn't stand a chance really, but they couldn't afford to be any further at a disadvantage, just because their Mentor decided he had pride.

His two main consolations were that he wasn't the only Mentor forced to attend this place, and there was a good barman here. Once he learnt the Victor's poison of choice he would wordlessly refill their glasses without fuss or judgement and was sympathetic when he cut them off. Well, when he was forced to cut him and Chaff off that is. Lyme seemed to know her own limits and despite her being from a Career District she wasn't cruel like most were. He enjoyed drinking with Lyme. He liked her.

Not like-liked her, or any of that romantic bullshit the people in the Capitol liked to make up. They were close in age and drank together. Apparently that meant they must be an item, or fucking, or in love, or some other Capitol crap that filled their magazines and most interviews seemed to drift towards. Just sharing a friendship with someone seemed like a foreign concept to these people.

What he likes about Lyme is that she is the strong silent type, she's good to have your back in a bar fight, she knows when to tell Chaff or him to shut up for their own good, and is good at hauling his or Chaff's drunken asses back to the Training Centre. Mainly she hauled their drunken asses back to the training centre.

Then there was Tegan and her Stylist. Both were alright but not his usual drinking buddies. Tegan had this horrible tendency to try and mother them. They weren't children and if this was how they chose to cope then she should just let them be. And she should leave the mothering to people like Mags and Barbara, they were much better at it. Besides, he thought she was more like an annoying aunt in this Victor family. No, not aunt; cousin. She was more like an annoying cousin.

Thankfully she's been occupied chatting with Nine's Stylist Nyssa. The two had been friends since Tegan's Games and had been talking about Nyssa's son the last time he'd bothered listening to their conversation. Nyssa was alright; for a Capitol.

The dance floor was just becoming popular when Haymitch ducked to the toilet. When he returned it was like the place had exploded. There were people everywhere, the noise passing as music was louder and he couldn't see any signs of his two companions. It was like the tables people had been sitting at before had just disappeared. Wadding through the crowd he went to the bar hoping to ask his favourite barman where his friends were.

Fortunately the guy was manning an offshoot of the main bar where it was quieter in both noise and people. He reached the bar at the same time as a young Capitol girl. Well, young woman looking at her in the tight fitting torn style dress. Why they would _style_ a dress to be torn looking he could never understand while in the Districts a tear meant work to repair it.

"I got here first Sweetheart," he tried to brush her aside.

"Try again," she snapped back without fear. "I've just spend 10 minutes at the other bar only to find out that the barmen over there doesn't know how to make the drink I want and the only one in this whole place is this guy. So I very much got here first, _darling_."

Haymitch couldn't stop his eyebrows from chasing his hairline at the venom in her words or the way her whole body became animated. Then, like she hadn't even spoken to him, she snapped into a cheerful voice as soon as the barman reached them.

"Hi, I'd like-" her order died on her lips as she made eye contact with the man on the other side. "Tim?"

She gave a laugh that sounded like it came from deep in her gut and Haymitch noticed the guy blush. He _blushed_! Haymitch didn't think people in the Capitol were even capable of that.

"What are you doing here?" the barman, Tim apparently, asked.

"I'd ask you the same, but I guess that's a bit obvious," she chuckled. "This certainly explains a lot." The guy serving only glared at her. "Think of the date, and I'll give you three guesses," she cheerfully stated.

Haymitch could see realisation dawn on the other man's face. What the significance of the date was, he had no idea.

"You're here to give them more plausibility, right? I bet you did all the talking to get in here."

"I am well spoken," she smirked. "And it is my day too, remember."

"Of course, happy birthday Mia." She smiled at him. "How many of you are here?"

"I'm the fifth wheel," she answered with an eye roll, "again."

Tim looked at her suspiciously, like he wanted to quiz her more, or tell her off if Haymitch read him correctly.

"Relax. Gaius is more smitten than he's willing to admit and will keep her as safe as he can," the woman, Mia, reassured him.

"Okay," the barman nodded. "Now, what can I get you?"

Haymitch didn't know why he didn't just leave and get his drink elsewhere. Eventually he'd find his fellow Victors, but he felt drawn to this woman beside him. He wanted to know more about her anyway he could.

"No one in this place knows how to make a Long Island Tea," she said with a smile. "You're the only one, apparently."

He nodded at her before turning to him and asking, "A round Haymitch or just yours?"

"Huh? Oh, just mine," he answered.

Mia turned and looked at him again. "Abernathy, isn't it?"

"Yep," he nodded with the grin he usually reserved for sponsors. "I didn't catch your name Sweetheart?" he lied, in an obvious attempt to get her talking.

A glass of whiskey on the rocks was quickly placed in front of him while the barman kept mixing her drink and offered, "Your friends relocated to the corner."

Haymitch didn't know if he imagined it or not but it seemed like the barman was trying to steer him away from the woman. Maybe he was stepping on toes.

"How do you two know each other?" he asked instead of leaving.

"We were neighbours as kids, and his sister and my brother are really close," she explained with a fond smile as she looked over to another part of the place, where her group of friends were, obviously. "Who are you here with?"

Haymitch looked to the corner the barman had gestured to and he could see his friends' large looming figures seated there. He pointed them out, just as they both noticed him at the bar and waved to them.

"Tegan Jovanka from the early 40s, Nine's Stylist Nyssa, Chaff Reed from the 45th Games, and… and, oh" he saw her eyes widen as she stuttered; "I'm not sure."

"Lyme Carew, 51st," Haymitch prompted. "Are you telling me you're not an ardent follower of the Games?"

"51st!" she repeated. "Of course, that's why I don't recognise her. I had exemption that year," she said, more to herself than to him really.

"Exempt? How'd you manage that?" He smirked, not entirely to himself. "Gotta rich and powerful family there, Princess?"

Yeah, he likes that moniker for her better. She looked like a princess.

"I applied for exemption and it was granted," she answered, coolly.

"Because…?"

She gave him a very deliberate and slow once over.

"Because of personal reasons." She leaned in close and whispered, "And by personal, I mean not open for discussion Mr Abernathy."

The barman finally produced her drink, placing it on the bar next to her. She gave her payment, took the drink and left without sparing him another glance.

"I didn't catch your name, Princess?" he called after her, trying to goad her, or at least get an answer.

But he didn't get either, she just kept walking a slight sway to her hips as she navigated the crowd easily.

Haymitch didn't, he _couldn't_ take his eyes off her as they followed her back to a group that, from there, looked underage. Who was this Capitol girl? He tilted his head intending to quiz the barman.

"Don't," the other man warned. His tone made Haymitch actually look at him and he was met with a hard look. "She's like family to me, and I've heard the way you and Chaff talk about Capitol woman. For most Elite or Upper women I don't care what you think of them, or consensually do with them, but she's not like them. She doesn't need that."

Haymitch paused at the man's words. He and Chaff had gotten wasted here a couple of times, and when they were drunk they were nasty with their comments. He couldn't remember what exactly they'd said, but there was no way it was something nice. What did this barman think they did with women?

Changing his mind on quizzing him, Haymitch finished off his drink and placed the glass on the bar with a _thunk_.

"Make a round and I'll be out of your hair."

The barman, whose name he'd already forgotten, did as he asked producing two whiskeys on the rocks, a red wine, a gin and tonic, and a bourbon mixer for Twelve's Victor. With less grace than the woman he ploughed his way through the crowd to where his friends where waiting.

He encountered some light teasing for his failure at securing the attention of the Capitol girl at the bar, but Haymitch couldn't stop his eyes from continually drifting over to where she and her friends were. Chaff continued to put the drinks away, but Haymitch found himself pacing himself with Lyme _and_ without prompting from Tegan, for reasons he couldn't explain. He also noticed she couldn't have been on her second drink despite being there for _hours_. The fact he couldn't stop keeping track of her didn't escape anyone at the table's notice.

She headed to the bar to _finally_ get another drink and he was on his feet in a flash. Lyme and Chaff chuckled and he didn't spare any of them a glance as he headed back to the bar.

Again they arrived at the same time.

"Hello, again Princess."

"Mr Abernathy." She nodded politely. "Enjoying your night?"

"As much as I enjoy any night spent in the Capitol. What about you? Can't help but notice you don't seem to be having as much fun as your friends."

"Keeping an eye on me?"

Haymitch gave a shrug, hoping his cheeks weren't reddening as he felt a hot flush at her question.

"I know what your problem is; you're not enjoying yourself because you're too sober. The only people here who are close to you in sober-ness-"

"Sobriety," she corrected with a grin.

"Yeah, that. See, if you can correct me on that you're too sober. I'm gonna order you set of four shots, I bet you won't get through them all, but you'll start really enjoying your night."

She turned to face him, her hands on her hips. He might think he was in trouble, if there wasn't a ghost of a smile on her lips.

"I'll take your bet," she said catching him off guard. "If I concede and don't do all the shots; you can name your victory price-"

She paused giving him time to name his prize.

Without his brain giving any input to the thought he named, "A kiss."

Another hot flush swept through him. That sounded too eager to his own ears. A grin escaped her at his words, and he didn't feel quite as foolish.

"Okay. I don't do all the shots and I'll give you a kiss, but if I do all the shots and am still standing; you have to join me on the dance floor."

"I don't dance, Sweetheart." He shook his head. No way was he agreeing to that.

"And I don't kiss strange men I just met at a night club," she countered. "Famous or not."

Haymitch paused and weighed his options. She looked like a light little thing; she wouldn't be able to really handle four hard shots. And ultimately if she did get through them all, would he mind swaying close to her in time to the music like what all the other people on the dance floor were?

"Alright, you've got a bet," he agreed offering his hand for a shake. She accepted his hand, and was barely hiding her grin.

Leaning forward he got the barman's attention and ordered two rounds of three wise men on the farm. It was a different barman than before so he was spared any dubious looks at trying to get her drunk. The four shots each were lined up before the two of them and he saw her eye it hesitantly.

"Maybe I'll add a stipulation to this," Haymitch added. "Per shot you take, we get to ask something about the other."

"Per shot? No! One question when we're halfway," she barged.

"Nope," he dismissed with a pop. "Per shot."

"Okay, per shot, _but_ no questions. We tell the other something but it's of our own choice."

Haymitch mulled on her compromise.

"Why so secretive Princess? What are you afraid I'll ask?" He threw her his most cocky grin, the one that had charmed most of the Capitol only five years ago.

"Ask me no questions; I'll tell you no lies," she offered back, her own charming smile in place.

He paused for another moment before he conceded and agreed to her terms.

"Alright, ready for the first shot?"

He held up the first glass, she mimicked him with false confidence. He could see it was false by the flicker of doubt in her eye.

"Ready."

He clinked their glasses before downing the shot of Scotch Whiskey. She was quick to follow. Placing the empty glass upside down on the table, he looked over at her grinning as she coughed heavily as she copied her glass placement.

"You okay, Princess?"

"Fine," she choked out. "And the name on my id is Fantine."

"That's not what what's-his-name earlier called you," he countered, until he doubted himself. "Is it?"

"I only let people who I know well call me another name," she grinned enigmatically. "Now your turn; tell me something."

"I only go drinking with Chaff and/or Lyme. They're the only ones I trust to have my back," he admitted quickly picking up the next glass.

Thankfully not commenting, she picked up the next shot; Bourbon. She managed to refrain from coughing again after down it, but he did notice her breathing slowly.

He didn't say anything, but she waved away his concerned look. He started to think he may actually get that kiss.

"I have two brothers and a sister," she offered picking up her next shot.

"I had a younger brother."

Wordlessly he picked up and downed the Whisky. She quickly followed, no doubt sensing his darkening mood. Placing the glass upside down she gave a small cry of disgust.

"What was that one? Urgh!"

She gave a large body shudder, which seemed to actually throw her off-balance slightly. His arm shot out to stop her swaying too much, but she'd already righted herself holding on the bar, giggling helplessly.

He chuckled at her antics, and her sly smile, made him think she might have been exaggerating her disgust to amuse him.

Picking up the final shot of Bourbon Whiskey she brightened as she happily declared, "Today is my birthday!"

"Happy birthday Princess," he offered, clinking their shots together before they both drank.

She leaned forward lowering her head as she did some deep breathing after putting the empty glass down upside down. Haymitch just watched over her, a grin on his face. Suddenly her head popped up and she took in the four empty glasses.

Jumping up, she threw her hands in the air and shouted, "I win!"

Haymitch quickly stepped forward as she swayed more ominously after her excitement. Next thing he knew they were already half way to the dance floor and he barely remembered them moving.

The music became louder as they got closer and closer to the main dance floor. Soon the music wasn't just heard but it was felt right through his body and Haymitch was reminded of why he avoided most Capitol night spots. Before he could retreat she had her arm wrapped around him and she was making him move in sync to the pounding sound.

Her hands kept directing him on how to move and Haymitch suspected if the music wasn't so loud she would have been telling him what to do too. Despite the alcohol in his system Haymitch thought he was doing a pretty good job of keeping up. He was finding it difficult to keep the balance he needed in actually enjoying the dance with her and wanting to pull her closer still.

Normally Haymitch would just leave when he had these thoughts, but it was more than just the tight hold she held on him physically that made him stay. She captivated him in a way nothing from the Capitol ever had; the way she smiled, not just with her lips, but with her eyes and her whole face, it enthralled him. The dark dance floor hid her face but every time a light flashed across her face, she was smiling at him.

The rhythmic swaying and bumping of their bodies was awakening a specific part of his. An occasional whiff of a fruity, sweet perfume kept hitting him when they were closest; with it, and the coy smile he kept seeing flashes of, Haymitch felt something, not entirely carnal-although that _was_ a large part-, stir deep within him. From a place he'd long assumed dead.

Pulling her closer he half yelled in her ear to be heard over the music, "Anyone ever tell you, you're bossy?"

"Not to my face," she answered, keeping her face close to his.

He saw her tongue dart out to moisten her lips and he couldn't take his eye off them. His arms wrapped around her waist and he felt his vision tunnel. She was all he could see and she was pulling his head closer.

"You still owe me one piece of information about you from the shots," she called, tilting her head so her lips grazed his ear.

Suppressing a shiver at the feel of her lips on him, he returned the favour letting his lips graze her ear. He felt her responding shiver before his words even reached her ears.

"I have been watching you all night. I don't know why, but I can't seem to keep my eyes off you."

He felt her breath become jagged against his neck as he continued to speak for her ears only.

"I've spent half the night waiting for you to return to the bar just so I could try and talk to you again. You're not like the other Capitol girls and I don't know why, but that fascinates me; you fascinate me."

Her breath moved along his jaw line to hover at his lips. His heart was thundering in his chest at the feel of it. He'd never felt like this over a kiss. Never. Not even his girl back home. He no longer heard the music pounding around them, only the sound of his heart pulsating loud enough to ring in his ears.

They both leaned in closer when suddenly she was pulled back. A feral growl escaped him as he held her tight and turned to focus on who was trying to take her away.

It was a guy she'd come here with. Seeing him closer, Haymitch felt even more confident to say he was underage. There was no way this boy before him was over 18.

"I'm sorry!" he yelled at the two of them. "But we need to leave! Now!"

"Why Pan?" she asked, with a fierce glare. Haymitch was willing to bet she was as annoyed he was.

Haymitch saw the boy lean in and say something closer to her ear. He watched confusion turn to shock then concern across her face.

"I'm sorry, I have to go," she apologised, starting to leave the dance floor.

Haymitch felt something in his stomach drop at seeing her leave. He grabbed her arm, not roughly but with force that made the boy she was with look worried.

"Wait! Can I see you again?" he asked before he mind could stop him.

He saw her bite her bottom lip and cast a look to her friends. When she faced him again could read her answer in her face.

"No. I'm sorry."

"Why?" he pressed, fighting the feeling of betrayal swelling within him. He didn't even know why he should feel betrayed.

She worked her bottom lip for another moment before she pulled his head close and confessed in his ear, "My family has a flux status."

Haymitch heard what she said but he didn't understand it. He went through the words in his mind again, but it didn't make any more sense the second time than it did the first.

"What does that mean?"

He couldn't hear her but could read on her lips something like 'easily found out' while she pried his hands off her arm. As soon as she was free, she disappeared from his sight. He tried to find her again in the crowd but it was too dark and there were too many people around.

She was gone.

For the next two years Haymitch returned to the same place on the same night in the hopes of seeing her again. But she never returned to that place. He quizzed the barman, on more than one occasion, but he never told the District man anything useful. While he kept searching for her on her birthday, he never expected her to find him at the Reaping in Twelve three Games later and for him to not even recognise her…

#hayffieweek #haymitchabernathy #effietrinket #inspiredbyasong #shutupanddance

We were victims of the night  
the chemical, physical, kryptonite  
Helpless to the bass and the fading light  
Oh, we were bound to get together, bound to get together

She took my arm  
I don't know how it happened  
We took the floor and she said,

#hayffieweek #haymitchabernathy #effietrinket #inspiredbyasong #shutupanddance

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Please let me know what you think. :D


	3. 60 HG

_Hi-hi. I'm wanting to get a gauge of interest in this story. Would you like me to update semi-regularly (once **maybe** twice a week depending on how long these last chapters take to write), or if I should just wait and update to complete it in one hit? Can you please let me know in a review? I just feel like I've been slugging away at this for over a month and want to know if there's anyone else who cares about it getting finished._

 _I'm close to finishing the writing of this story; just two and two halves to write! (no it's not three chapters, there are two chapters I have half finished)_

 _Also, this is the **longest** chapter in this story. (unless one of the last chapters runs away from me, but that doesn't seem likely at this point.)_

 _ **Disclaimer** \- any character you recognise, I don't own. Any character you don't is possibly mine. And I don't own the song either._

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Haymitch stole a hidden look under his eyelids at his mortified Escort sitting next to his prone form and their apparently not-so-potential sponsor sitting opposite them. They clearly thought he was still passed out; otherwise Trinket would _never_ let him hear such a conversation. It was taking a while for the Capitol man's words to sink into his mind. That can't be right. Haymitch's alcohol soaked brain thought; this had to be case of mistaken identity, surely.

"Not all of us are afforded a freedom of choice; only an illusion of a choice," the embarrassed woman beside him muttered, her hands fiddled with her drink in what Haymitch now knew to be a nervous tick.

Neither of them noticed him opening his eyes more and Haymitch thought he must have had more to drink than he realised. There was no way his air-headed, manner obsessed, slave of fashion Escort had been accepted on full scholarship to the best university in Panem like this man had suggested. He must have had some bad alcohol and this was a trip to rival what he experienced with that hallucinogen seven years ago.

"That's an excuse weak-willed people use to make them feel better about picking the easy path," the Capitol man before him said, his voice continuing to get louder. "I expected so much more from you Euphemia! You know, I refused to believe it was you I was seeing. I had to come here and actually see and talk to you in person for myself. This is a waste of your potential; a waste of your life! I am so bitterly disappointed in you. Of all the ways to throw your life away you choose _this_ ; an _Escort_ for the Games?"

Haymitch let his confusion slide as he felt his irritation grow as this man's continued to attack her. Who the hell was he to put her down in this way?

Sure, Haymitch had made it a personal mission to irritate her as much as he could on any given day he was forced to spend time with her. But this was different; this was personal, and she didn't deserve a personal attack. The condescending tone was so _typical_ of Capitol citizens.

"You must be mistaken Professor. This is just as great a privilege as my scholarship was; serving my county before everyone and setting an example of proper Capitol behaviour for all to _see_ ," her voice was hollow, but strong and Haymitch could hear what she wasn't saying. They were being watched; now. "No one with my kind of background has ever been offered such a role in the Games."

"What do you think your father would say if he could see you now?" the older Capitol man asked, becoming frustrated with her false cheer; an emotion Haymitch could empathise with all too well on any other day. "He was doing all he could for a better future, for _all_ of Panem. An ideal I understood you to share."

With her smile not faltering, but her eyes darkening in a way that Haymitch had never seen before, sending a shiver down his spine, Effie answered, "We will never know what he _would have_ thought because he focused too much on the future and in remaining oblivious to the now got himself killed, and endangered the very future of his own children for these _ideals_." Her voice lightened in a way Haymitch was too familiar with, but suddenly understood was her straining to remain cheerful, "And you forget, it is an honour to have received such an offer, especially since it came directly from _President Snow's office_ , to be apart of the Games."

Haymitch felt all the alcohol he'd had hit his stomach. _Snow's office_ had appointed her? Escorts selected that way where often in the same boat as popular Victors or ones without powerful protectors; that is to say they were _sold_. He had to close his eyes as a wave of nausea swept through him.

All those times over the last two years when she was vague about _how_ she was meeting the sponsors who had shown interest and why she was always so busy in the evenings. He'd assumed she had an influential family that was getting her the sponsors in order to her get promoted out of Twelve. How wrong he'd been. Hell, he couldn't have been any more wrong!

Clarification hit him. _That_ was why the Chestertons, Tracey Van and Blight Woods had connected with her immediately. Tracey and Blight were in the same boat, they must know the truth of her appointment. They'd probably seen her at the popular appointment hotel, well Blight this year at least. While the Chestertons have been doing this for so long that the way they picked up on those kinds of details, almost immediately, was unnerving.

"What about your brother? Why couldn't he have taken over?" the Capitol man pressed, his voice lowered, but still obviously angry.

"The offer was to me, not him. There was no point in trying to fight it." Haymitch saw her raise her hand to ward of his next comment through half-lids. "A senior Peacekeeper escorted my sister home from school one day because there had been some unprecedented bouts of violence in the school's area, and he handed the acceptance to Games Finishing to me _personally_ while he kept a _protective_ hand on her shoulder."

The man opposite him seemed to finally understand what was being held against her. He became unnaturally still and Haymitch wanted to snap at the man to 'act natural' or people would start to take note. That's why he was pretending to be passed out still.

Well, that and Effie would kill him if she realised how much he'd heard of their conversation.

The Professor clearly wasn't used to, or very skilled at, acting like nothing was wrong. Or maybe he was genuinely shocked at what his ex-pupil was going through. Haymitch was certainly in shock at what she'd managed to hide from him while appearing to be perfectly open. It wasn't long before Haymitch heard a group of footsteps approaching.

"Is everything okay here?" the latest Victor, Blight Woods, asked.

Haymitch kept his eyes half-closed but he could see both of Seven's and Eleven's Mentors had come to check on his Escort. The three more experienced Mentors didn't spare him more than a glance and he knew the three of them saw through his act; well, at least Chaff did.

"Oh yes, everything is fine," Effie gushed, her cheer brightening. "The Professor and I became sidetracked catching up. I studied under him briefly a few years ago."

Before anyone else could comment, an attendant with a gold sash approached the group.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," she began, an appointment slip in her hand.

Haymitch had to force himself not to tense up and give himself away at seeing the slip.

All Victors knew what a slip meant even if they weren't given any; whether they were protected like Seven's senior Mentor Sarah Jane, or they were considered 'un-desirable' like Chaff with his amputated hand. It had been years since he'd been given a slip but it still made his insides clench. The only other thought he had was that the slip was thankfully blue, and not pink.

Haymitch saw Sarah Jane place a supportive hand on Blight's back at the interruption. It was most likely for the latest Victor.

"Miss Trinket." The sashed woman offered the slip to Effie casually and Haymitch saw none of the other Victors appeared surprised, only concerned.

"Thank you Hermia," Effie politely accepted the slip as if it was nothing more than a note.

The attendant disappeared, but Haymitch was stuck on the fact that neither Seeder nor Chaff were surprised to see her accept the slip. They _knew_! They knew the nature of her appointment and hadn't said anything to him. That's why Chaff had been oddly defensive of her last year, Haymitch realised. Betrayal swept through him and he had to be careful not to squeeze his eyes shut and give away his alertness.

"Him again?" Blight asked, having obviously recognised the writing on the note, or read it over her shoulder. With his eyes closed, Haymitch couldn't be sure.

"There are worse people to have a favour," Effie said softly, sounding resigned to her fate.

He didn't risk opening his eyes; he was too afraid he wouldn't be able to stop himself from rising and slugging his one of his friends for keeping this secret.

"Would you like us to take him off your hands?" he heard Chaff offer, and felt a small nudge on his leg.

"No, he's fine. The more he sleeps off now, the more amiable he is to assisting our Tributes at dinner," she explained.

Did she really have his measure already? He couldn't help wondering. Well, if she was as clever as the Capitol Professor indicated, she would be observant and smart enough to note what did and didn't work. Maybe she did; maybe she got him; maybe she understood him like no one from the Capitol ever had. And Haymitch didn't want to think about the emotion that shot through at that thought. It was not enough like panic for his liking.

"Very well, if you need a hand, don't hesitate to find us," Seeder offered.

Haymitch heard a group walking away. Silence fell over whoever had remained. Carefully, Haymitch cracked an eye and saw it was just Professor what's-his-face and Effie still there.

The two remained silent, eyeing each other.

"They respect you," the man said, finally.

"They are good people. Some of the best I've ever had the privilege to meet," Effie softly answered.

"Yet you play a part in the killing of their children!"

Haymitch wanted to cringe. Didn't the man understand the Peacekeepers lining the room weren't there to look pretty? Raised voices were the best way to get them off their shinny asses.

"Now you've done it," Effie softly exclaimed. "That Peacekeeper is going to escort you off the premise now, probably before the paparazzi too."

"At least I'm making a stand," he countered, his voice lowered.

"Professor, _please_ remember I am not the enemy," she breathed so softly Haymitch almost missed it.

"If you're not fighting against it, my dear, you _are_ ," was the equally soft answer.

"Is everything alright here Miss Trinket?" the Peacekeeper asked having reached the group.

"Yes, yes, everything is fine Astor. Thank you."

"Sir, the Lounge area is now closing. You need to leave. I'll show you the way."

"Very well," Haymitch heard him reluctantly agree.

"It was nice seeing you again Professor Doyle. I hope you consider sponsoring Twelve another year."

There was no response from the man. Haymitch heard the footsteps of both the Peacekeeper and the Professor walking away.

He wasn't sure how long they sat there in silence; he didn't know what she was doing, and he was too scared to open his eyes to check when it was just the two of them. Suddenly he felt something hit his shoulder roughly, no doubt intending to wake him.

"Haymitch! Will you please wake up?" she called in pitch that he'd previously thought was reserved for calling dogs.

He didn't have to fake jumping at the sudden and unexpected contact. When his eyes snapped opened and met hers, he saw her eyes widen as she realised how alert he was. Betrayal entered her eyes along with fear showing she clearly wasn't sure how much he had heard.

"We gots a spon-sir?" he exaggerated his slur, properly looking around.

No one was close to them any more. There were less than a handful of people in the room and most of them were Peacekeepers by the doors.

"No. No we don't, and no thanks to you," she scolded him. Her shoulders slumped as she breathed, "How much did you hear?"

"More than you would have liked," he admitted. He heard her sigh wearily. "I want answers."

She nodded, but quickly held up her hand stopping his first question from escaping.

"Not here. Not now." His irritation must have showed on his face, because she whispered, "Please, just give me chance to gather my thoughts."

"You mean a chance to formulate your lies?" he snapped.

Why he was angry, he wasn't sure. Maybe he was still a bit drunk; although his head was too clear for his liking. Maybe he was redirecting his feeling of betrayal at Chaff leaving him in the dark towards her; there was a strong chance at that. Maybe he was annoyed at himself for not noticing any of the signs she wasn't here voluntarily; that was definitely part of it, but not wholly. Whatever the reason; he was angry, and she was there.

"When have I lied to you Haymitch?"

"I don't know Trinket. When have you lied to me?" Haymitch ran his fingers through his hair, but anger was coursing through him too much for it to have any real calming effect.

He saw her open her mouth to answer when another gold sashed attendant approached and wordlessly handed her another blue slip.

"Fuck this, I need a drink," he exclaimed, striding away towards the connecting bar as fast as he could.

"Haymitch!"

He didn't stop to look back at her, instead he practically ran to get away. Entering the bar he saw Chaff seated with a glass in his hand. Wordlessly and as quickly as he could manage Haymitch reached his friend. As soon as he was beside Eleven's Mentors he snatched the drink out of the other man's hand and downed it.

Neither Seeder nor Chaff commented, instead he flagged down the barman and ordered two more drinks for them both.

"How much did you hear?" his friend asked, eyeing him warily.

"Too fucking much," he muttered. Bringing the fresh drink to his lips he thought about downing it too, instead he took a long sip before facing his friend. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Wasn't my story to tell, was it?" Chaff gave him a sidelong glance. "You wouldn't want me blabbing yours to her, would you?"

Reluctantly, Haymitch conceded that.

"She ever get a pink?"

Eleven's Mentors exchanged a long look. Chaff paused, his drink just at his lips and shrugged, "Dunno."

"What does that mean?"

"What the fuck do you think it means?" Chaff slammed his stump on the bar. "I do not know. I haven't seen her get one, but that doesn't mean Jack." He brought his drink to his lips avoiding eye contact.

"She's good at playing their game, Haymitch. Martha helped watched her last year," Seeder explained. "She said she definitely got more appointments than they saw her get slips."

"Hell," Chaff took over again, "if she hadn't been gifted to me I wouldn't have even thought to watch for it. She's young, she's hot, she's natural around cameras, she's popular, she's organised, she's clever at playing dumb, _and_ they've got a lot of shit to keep her in line. She's fucking everything they could want her to be."

Haymitch knew Chaff had kept talking but his mind stalled on one thing, and anger blazed through his veins at it.

Effie'd been gifted to him?

" _What_?!" Haymitch grabbed his friend by the cuff of his shirt and slammed him back into the bar; hissing under his breath, "You slept with my Escort?"

Chaff struggled to get himself free and succeed in wrestling his hands off as he answered, "No! But Snow sent her as congratulations for Martha. I had no clue until Seeder asked her point blank why she was on level eleven."

Haymitch felt Seeder place a comforting hand on his arm. He relaxed his hands, but his chest kept heaving with his emotions.

Chaff took a long sip of his drink as he gave Twelve's Mentor another side glance. "Now, don't bite my head off for this but I gotta ask; why do you care so much? You would've shaken your head and bought me a drink if I'd bagged your last Escort. What's making you loose it over this one?"

Haymitch had no response to that. He'd been thinking the same thing, but still had no answer. Why did he care so much about Trinket?

"What about you?" he countered. "Why do _you_ care so much? She's not the first Escort we've known to be given slips, yet you tried to keep track last year. You joined the others in coming to check on her when that guy got too loud back there. Hell, you _kept_ her secret from me. What's making _you_ act this way with her?"

Haymitch picked his glass back up. He thought he'd gotten one over his friend. But unlike him, Chaff had an answer.

"Because she's not like the other Capitols we meet. You look in her eyes, she doesn't _act_ like she cares; she _does_ care. Even other Escorts who have been given slips lose their ability to care for their Tributes by their second year, yet your girl is still fighting for them as strongly as she did her first year. You've had more sponsor interest in a couple of thirteen year olds than you had combining your first _seven years_ as Mentor."

Haymitch clenched his jaw. All Chaff had said was true, but that wasn't what had gotten his shackles up. She was under his skin and he didn't know why!

The drink in his hand was removed and placed on the bar before him. Somehow her smell had surrounded him, calmed him, without him noticing. If anyone else had taken the drink from him he would have snapped at them.

"What do you want?"

In the corner of his eye he saw both of Eleven's Mentors raise their eyebrows at him.

"Dance with me." He looked at her, and realised, she wasn't asking.

"I don't dance, Sweetheart."

He saw a ghost of a smile flash over her face at his words. Why did that amuse her?

"If you want answers, you will. I'm not going to talk about _that_ where our Tributes can hear us."

"What's wrong with the bar here?" he asked, crossing his arms petulantly.

She didn't say anything, but he saw her eyes darted to the barman moving up and down the bar. When he came closer her back straightened.

"Effie," the barman greeted her. "Your usual?"

"No, thank you, Aristo," she answered tensely, her brightest smile in place.

Without putting too much thought into it, Haymitch grabbed her arm and lead her to the small dance floor.

"Don't you dare look back at him," he muttered. "Keep your eyes on me."

He pulled her to face him in a long forgotten dance pose he was taught back when he was first crowned.

"I thought you couldn't dance," she teased.

"I didn't say I couldn't; I said I don't," he corrected. Haymitch was sure that if she was anyone else that answer would have gotten him an eye roll. Yet she looked almost smug.

"And yet, here you are."

He could've sworn her eyes added _again_ , but Haymitch had never danced with his Escort. Had he?

"You've been holding back from me," she teased.

"I'm here for answers," he corrected, cutting to the chase. "Start talking."

She sighed and Haymitch saw her look weary for the first time in three years.

"How much did you hear?" she asked softly. If he wasn't dancing with her he wouldn't have heard it over the music.

"Quite a bit;" he shrugged, "probably most of it actually."

"Then what did you want to know?"

Everything! He wanted to say, but that was too vague and she'd demand he be more specific.

"Start with the barman. What was that about?"

"Aristo is a plant. He's there solely to keep an ear out for anti-Capitol, or anti-Snow sentiments. He's good friends with the eldest of the President's sons; Diomedes. He gets to sit in on Diomedes's pinks. Rumour has it if he continues to prove his loyalty Aristo will be allowed to take over Diomedes's pinks while he will be given his own category; white. Aristo isn't the only plant. Most bartenders here in the Lounge Bar are, and a number of other attendants. That's why I wouldn't talk in the Lounge either."

Haymitch's blood ran cold. She'd been given pink slips; pink slips with Snow's cruel, sadistic, psychopath of a son. His head was spinning. He'd asked and now he couldn't stomach her answer.

"Try not to faint on me now," she snapped, giving him a subtle pinch on his arm. He must have gone as pale as he felt light-headed.

Her pinch helped him focus on her again.

"Why?" he croaked out.

Why would she be given one? If he'd done something to get her in with Diomedes Snow he would be sick. Fuck, he may accept some of those hard drugs he's always being offered but normally avoided.

"My brother was slow in learning the rules of this game. He didn't understand where the penalties were taken. But he does now."

"Does he?" Haymitch pressed.

If he didn't Haymitch would hunt him down in the Capitol and give him a harsh lesson. He could probably get a couple of other Mentors in on this too.

"Yes," she emphasised back. She looked away from his eyes as she whispered, "Snow made sure of it."

Haymitch could feel the burning desire for a drink at her words, but if he left to get a drink, she would close off.

"How many of our potential sponsor have been slips?"

"Most. Not all, but most. The ones who haven't are consider not influential enough to be granted the option of buying in. The Upper outside the option like to feint interest in sponsoring so they can be seen in public with me." She smiled a self-loathing smile. "After all I am the current _It_ girl."

"How many pinks have you been given?"

"I don't know." She met his hard look unwaveringly. "It's been three years Haymitch, I haven't been keeping count. A lot; more than your average uncooperative Victor, is that specific enough? Last years it was less; this year less again."

Haymitch clenched his jaw. That would be too many; 'less' was too vague, especially if she was still getting them after three years. Maybe he should still have a talk to her brother.

But one look in her eye and Haymitch knew he wouldn't.

"What- no, _who_ do they have over you?"

Haymitch saw her eyes soften and a fond smile cross her lips as she answered, "My family. Two brothers and a sister, the youngest turned nine last month. All my money that's not going towards living expenses or the minimum expectation of me as one of The Escorts goes into their schooling. It's the best way I can ensure they rise out of our status.

"Before you ask, my mother's dead. She died of labour complications nine years ago."

"I didn't think that happened here in the Capitol," Haymitch commented, mainly to himself.

"For most it doesn't. My family wasn't so fortunate; our status didn't cover it."

"Why are you so focused on your status, so determined to see your siblings rise?"

"Status means everything," she said like it should be obvious. Her eyes narrowed. "Do you really not know Haymitch? You've been coming to the Capitol for ten years."

"Just answer my question," Haymitch snapped. "People have always avoided answering when I ask."

"Most people in the Capitol live in the Middle; there are some who live in the Upper, then there are the Elite. Sponsors are mainly Elite and Upper. Then there is a small amount called the Lower," Effie dropped her voice to a whisper. "The Lower are people who would consider the Districts a step up. At least then the parents could work and their children would get a free education. Most children from the Lower wouldn't mind risking entering the Games if it meant they could do something to help feed their family.

"The Elite and Upper act as a distraction for the Middle to either aspire to climb towards, or forget to notice those starving only blocks away. Jobs are often based on status too.

"All those in Lower can ever hope for is labour type of work. While those in the Middle are offered nearly the full range, if they're willing to work hard enough; they just can't get to Elite exclusive roles. But mainly they'll be teachers, nurses, Peacekeepers, sales clerks or that sort of thing. Upper are normally doctors, store owners, lawyers and the kind of work you have to do a lot of study for and therefore have the money to cover it. The Elite, if they work, will do something they often inherit, like run companies."

"What are Gamemakers and other Escorts?"

"They come only from the Elite or the Upper. Often the Escorts that are… that have appointments will be from Upper and someone in their family has spoken out against Snow or the Capitol. Elites who chose to Escort are only ever given the Career Districts and are _never_ given appointments."

Haymitch felt his heart race, Effie was being completely honest with him and she knew how the Capitol worked. He could _finally_ get an answer to the question that has been burning in his mind for five years.

"What does a flux status mean?"

Effie inhaled sharply. Blue met grey and he could see a level of fear enter them.

"A flux status means a family is of Middle status and the government doesn't trust them. They will watch and listened to all of them, children too. If they act out, like go into some place that's above their rank, they could face a suspension of medical care cover. If _any_ of them say anything that is considered anti-Capitol they will be dropped to Lower. All those working will loose their job and medical assistance is refused. It's been known to cost lives. Typically they'll have the status for five to seven years."

Haymitch took a moment for that to sink in for him. Five years of asking and he finally got his answer. The woman had been scared of costing her parents' their jobs and endangering the rest of her family's ability to go to school or seek medical care.

Why did she even sneak in then? Haymitch had resided himself to the fact he would never being able to get that answer.

"What did your father do to get himself killed?"

"Active participation in Anti-Capitol activities."

"Meaning?"

"He was caught being involved in an event that was linked to a group with anti-Capitol sentiments."

"Why wasn't he just lowered, then?"

"That's none of your concern."

"What?"

"I don't ask for the details of your nightmares. I know you have them, I can guess most of the content, but I don't ask. I afford you that much privacy and I'm asking you to return that respect now. Please Haymitch, allow me _some_ privacy."

Haymitch clenched his jaw. It was true, he didn't need to know this detail, but he was curious. And curiosity was always dangerous for him. What was she still hiding from him?

"If you only have questions to feed your personal curiosity, then you'd better shut up and just dance with me."

Haymitch felt his eyebrows rise. How well did she know him? He thought about trying to press for more, but she had shared more than he honestly expected her to. She trusted him with more than he'd ever bothered to trust or share with her.

So he did as she asked. Well, demanded. He shut up and finished the dance.

* * *

"Oh don't you dare look back.  
Just keep your eyes on me."  
I said, "You're holding back."  
She said, "Shut up and dance with me!"  
This woman is my destiny  
She said, "Ooh-ooh-hoo, shut up and dance with me."

* * *

 _Please review and let me know both what you think, and how you'd like me to update(finish) this. Thanks!_


	4. 63 HG

_This chapter should answer some questions people have asked me, and hopefully raise some more?_

 _I wrote this a while ago, and I'm not sure if I'm 100% happy with it. But then I'm never really 100% happy with my own writing. Please let me know what you think._

* * *

Haymitch couldn't stop glancing at her in that red dress she was wearing. He justified his ogling by saying he was trying to figure out how it was staying up. There was nothing to keep it in place across the back; he was literally staring at her bare back, so how could she still be _wearing_ it?

The party was too crowded; there was too much noise, and not enough alcohol for Haymitch's taste. Yet, if they wanted a chance at _any_ sponsors this year; this party was their best bet. He struggled to keep his face from forming a scowl at all the Capitol people around him. The only other District people at this party were Two's Brutus and his new Victor Enobara. She was smiling sweetly at an adoring group of fans, but he knew she was as cold as all the usual 'Careers', this only made Haymitch more annoyed to think Lyme wasn't here in favour of _her_.

Before Haymitch could properly get rid of the disgusted look on his face he was approached by a Capitol kid, holding a signature book like it was his lifeline.

"Excuse me, are you Mr Abernathy?" he asked politely, but clearly nervous.

"I don't do signature books kid," he growled out.

The boy glanced between him and the book he was holding closely and a look of disgust crossed his face.

"I don't collect Victor signatures," he said, like it should be obvious. "That's a completely redundant collectors item because there will always be a new Victor, so you can never have a complete set;" a thought crossed his face, "unless the Games ended." Quickly his eyes scanned the people around them and Haymitch noticed the boy looked a whole new kind of nervous now. "But that will never happen gods willing."

Haymitch was intrigued by this kid. Who was he to get into this party to begin with, and what had happened for him to know to watch his words so closely at – what eleven- twelve?

"What is you want then kid?" he asked, returning them to why he'd been approached in the first place.

"Do you know if Miss Nobel and Dr Ten are going to be here tonight?"

It clicked into place. This kid was a Doctor fan. Looking the boy over it was obvious now. The brown suit with matching tie and those beat-up Converse sandshoes _everyone_ has been wearing for last two years. Heck they've been so talked up he even knew the _damn shoe brand name_! Capitols fixate on weird things.

"Dunno kid," he muttered looking around to see if he was likely to get a drink off anyone nearby, or score some points with a sponsor for talking nicely to this kid.

"Are you being a bother Jax?" a new voice asked, snapping Haymitch's attention back.

He knew that face! Sure he was looking older, eight years to be precises, but he burned it into his memory when he snatched away the woman he was dancing with in that bar years ago.

"No, Pan. I'm not," the boy answered the other.

"Did you remember to introduce yourself?" the older asked. A pair of flushed cheeks was his answer. The older man laughed. "I won't tell Mia, but you better not let her catch you not."

The boy nodded.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Mr Abernathy; my name is Ajax Trinket and this is my brother Pantelemon Trinket," he introduced himself and the older man.

"Trinket? Are you two related to my Escort?"

Both grinned at him blue eyes twinkling and suddenly Haymitch could see the relation; the older more obvious than the younger.

"Yes, we're both her little brothers."

"I'm her twin actually," the older corrected.

"But she was still born first, making you her _younger_ brother," Ajax -Jax?- teased.

"There's another, isn't there?" Haymitch asked, half remembering a conversation from a few years ago. "A sister?"

This was clearly not the right question to ask, because both Trinkets before him froze and looked very uncomfortable at the question. The elder more than the younger.

"Cynthia. She's eighteen and doesn't live with us any more," Jax eventually answered, and looked like he was going to elaborate but his brother's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"There was a falling out that's yet to be resolved, and that's all you need to know Mr Abernathy."

Haymitch let his eyebrows chase his hairline.

"Righto then, _Mr Trinket_ ," Haymitch mocked.

"Pan is fine," he offered the familiarity with a shrug.

Haymitch looked at him closely. Pantelemon was half a head shorter than the Victor from Twelve. Haymitch thought he look as he'd expected someone from Effie's family to look really, considering her opinion of fashion and trends. It was the same as most peoples, but less at the same time.

 _Cheaper_ , somewhere in his mind supplied. All the money Effie could afford to spend away from food, rent, and expectation of her role as a Games Escort was put into schooling her siblings. That's what she'd told him years ago.

"What are you two doing here?" a familiar voice asked, a look on her face Haymitch had never seen before.

"We got invited Mia!" the younger happily exclaimed, turning to face his sister. "This is the party you were going to get us invited to isn't it?"

"No, it wasn't," she answered, giving her other brother a look.

"We were invited," he repeated and produced an invitation from his pocket.

"Well, that just means you get to go to two parties then. Lucky you Jax."

The almost teen beamed at her words.

"Does that mean I'll get to meet Dr Ten twice?"

"No, sorry Sweetie, they're not coming to this one." The boy instantly deflated. "But I'll tell you what, why don't you go to the bar over there and get the man to make you a triple-ripple-choc-banana spider?"

"I can have it all by myself?"

"All by yourself," she nodded, giving him the warmest smile Haymitch had ever seen on her face.

"Thanks Mia! You're the best!"

The boy kissed her cheek and ran off to where she'd directed him.

"I'm the one that's going to have to deal with him all hyped up on sugar tonight," Pantelemon complained, looking to Haymitch for sympathy.

Haymitch just looked at him blankly. He had no idea what Effie had just given permission for the kid to get. It was eatable, he'd gotten that much. But was it a food or drink of some sort?

"It's just one night. Let him sleep in tomorrow and you won't even notice," Effie dismissed her brother's complaint. "I trust you two have been introduced."

"Yes Effie, all polite and proper," Haymitch answered with an eye roll.

He wanted to get this twin of hers alone so he could quiz him on who he was with eight years ago.

"So," the male twin started breaking the awkward silence the three had fallen into. "Can I comment on the name of this establishment?"

Haymitch looked at him and knew he'd like this guy by the look in his eye. Whatever he was able to say it was going to be at his Escort's expense.

"No, don't you dare," she repeated at the same time Haymitch said, "Yeah, do it."

"Tis fair Verona where this scene is lain. That has been the two hour stage of this tragedy, of a party, I am baring witness to. And where for art tho Romeo, who wishes to steal mine Juliet away?"

"Stop it Pan."

"Will there be no misadventures or piteous over through? No death marked love for a pair of star-crossed lovers?"

"No. And I think we both know what's standing in the way of that happening."

Haymitch could see Effie was more than annoyed at whatever her brother was teasing her about. He had no idea what the Capitol man was blabbering about. Whatever it was, it was making her sad.

"Love is not felt by these lovers?" the man asked, softly.

"Oh, it is felt. It's just not returned. For how can you give yourself over to love, when it is bided on for the highest price?"

Ah, now Haymitch was cluing in. One of her client fancies himself in love with her.

"Then perhaps we are only meeting Paris tonight, and your Romeo is still out there." Pantelemon gave Haymitch a look he didn't know how to name. "Or maybe he's closer than you expect."

"Okay, what exactly are you going on about? I get that your referencing something else, but I have no idea what." Haymitch let his annoyance be heard. "Why do you Capitols always have to make out that you're the smartest in the damn room?"

"Sorry," the other man apologised, and Haymitch thought he sounded sincere. "When you encouraged me, I assumed you knew the play."

"What play?"

"Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet," Effie answered. "It's set in a place called Verona, and that's-"

"What this place is named, okay, I get that." Haymitch nodded his understanding. "But all the other crap?"

"Was Pan referencing the play itself."

"It's a good story. I think you could enjoy it," Pantelemon said, appraising him.

"You hardly know me," Haymitch countered.

"I think you could sympathise with fortune's fool," he countered, with a small shrug. "Or you could always watch the movie, if reading isn't your thing; although they always seem to focus on the romance more."

"You two are trying to get me to read a romance novel?" Haymitch asked, slightly disgusted at the thought.

" _I'm_ trying nothing of the sort. All I was doing was explaining Pan's references." Effie looked affronted by his tone. "We really should be mingling more, if we hope to get any sponsors for this year's Tributes."

"We've got a twelve year old and a thirteen year old. Neither of them really stand a chance, Sweetheart. A couple of sponsors ain't gonna change that."

Effie looked ready to argue her point with him when a pair of arms snaked around her waist. She stiffened and even after the man had spoken, letting her know who it was; Haymitch noticed she didn't _completely_ relax. And he felt a strange burning in his gut at the sight.

Was this is the client her brother was teasing her about? His whole look screamed money, even to Haymitch who didn't know any of the names of designers, unless they'd worked for Twelve; even then he often forgot their names. Everything was tailored to fit this man perfectly, even around the paunch of his middle, and his face had that sheen to it that Haymitch knew meant work had been done. This guy was a pampered Elite.

"Hi there beautiful," the man whispered into her ear.

"Hello, love," Effie replied, none of the discomfort he knew she was experiencing was heard in her voice.

She was looking at the man in a coy way that made the burning in his gut twist. Haymitch didn't want to think about why that feeling shot through him.

 _She has to look at him like that. She has to, or Snow will punish her or her family,_ Haymitch had to remind himself. _You heard her, she doesn't love him._

Why did that matter to him? What did it matter to him if she was in love with the guy or not? It's not like she was marrying him. Not that he cared who she married or anything either.

"Argo, have you met Haymitch and my brother?"

"Yes, I met Haymitch briefly after he won his Games, but I don't think I've met your brother. Argo Waters," he offered his hand to Pantelemon.

"Pantelemon Trinket," he shook the other Capitol man's hand.

"Pan," Argo nodded.

"It's Pantelemon," he corrected, a hard look in his blue eyes, affording this man no familiarity.

"Come on love, I haven't had a dance all night," Effie stated, trying to lead the other man away before the situation could become any more awkward than it already felt.

"A dance, or _a dance_?" he asked with a leer.

Haymitch clench both his fists and his jaw at the man's expression. His knuckles itched to meet his jaw or nose. But before he could act on this urge Effie was laughing, her high fake laugh, and put her hand in the crook of the man's elbow.

"The dance floor has my name on it," she whispered, loud enough for them all to hear.

"Then lead the way," Argo offered gesturing for her to lead. He threw a suggestive wink to the two men he was leaving behind.

Haymitch wanted to glare at the guy for winking like that, but he became distracted by the view of Effie in _that_ dress with a provocative sway to her hips as she joined the people amongst the flashing lights of the dace floor.

"It's probably that bastard," Pantelemon muttered darkly, as the other man followed Effie to the dance floor.

"What's probably Argo?" Haymitch asked, averting his eyes so they wouldn't keep boring into her back.

Her _whole_ back bare for him to feast his eyes on; his finger itched to spread across the expanse before his eyes and check if it was a soft to the touch as it looked. But he wasn't focusing on that. Well, he wasn't _meant_ to be focusing on that. No, he _wasn't_ focusing on it to stop himself from punching Argo.

The Capitol man beside him met his eyes surprised. Blue and grey eyes search each other and whatever he was looking for in the grey eyes, Pantelemon didn't see it.

"She hasn't told you?" His lips tightened, and he looked annoyed. "Well, then it's not my place to say is it?"

"What?"

Pantelemon shook his head. "I imagine you'll find out soon enough."

Haymitch eyed him and decided to finally ask the question that has been burning in his mind since he met Pantelemon Trinket.

"We've met once before," he started.

"Have we?" the man next to him looked perplexed. "I think I would remember meeting the Victor of the Second Quarter Quell."

"It was brief, names weren't exchanged," he continued. "Eight years ago in a bar you got into underage. You took someone off the dance floor and disappeared."

The man obviously now remembered, because he paled. Faster than he would have thought the soft man capable of, Pantelemon grabbed Haymitch pulling him away from the main party area and whispered harshly, "Not here! Don't even speak of something like that here."

"Where is she?" he pressed quickly. "Tell me where she is and I will never speak of it again."

"You mean you don't know?" the Capitol man looked at him pitifully. "You haven't figured out who she is?"

Haymitch could feel a sense of dread rise in him. He should know who she is? Why? He looked at the Trinket standing before him, and saw where his gaze was out at the party. Following his gaze he saw it was on his Escort. Realisation dawned on him like a slap in the face.

"What's her full name again?" he breathed, gripping his companion's arm. "What do _you_ call her?"

"Euphemia Trinket. Family call her Mia."

 _"I only let people who I know well call me another name." "Of course, happy birthday Mia."_

That's what the barman had called her all those years ago. _Mia_. Effie is the mysterious woman from the bar that night!

He needed a drink. No. Scratch that, he needed a bottle. Or three.

Without giving the Capitol man another glance Haymitch rushed off in search of his last salvation; alcohol. He would try and drink to forget. It never worked, but he would try.

He was barely half a dozen drinks in when he felt her approach. Damn it, why did he have to have a sense of when she was near?!

"That's enough of that," she commented, taking the drink from his hand.

Haymitch turned his eyes on her. He wished he could ignore the spark that consumed him when he met her eye.

"I've barely started, _Princess_ ," he retorted throwing the old moniker back at her. If she remembered when he'd last called her that, she gave no indication.

And that stung him. She'd meant _so much_ to him in that moment, years ago, and he meant nothing to her?

He got to his feet mad, and swayed as the alcohol he'd recently, and quickly, consumed went to his head.

"Come on, we're not going to achieve anything with you in this state."

She quickly and effectively led him out of the party and into an awaiting car to take them back to the training centre. Before he could really process what was happening they were halfway home. She was good at doing this to him; envelop him in a whirlwind of activity so that by the time he figures out what's happening she's already half way, or more, to getting her way. He hated that she could do that.

There were the usual paparazzi and dedicated fans flocking the entry to the training centre, and it went by in the usual blur of flashing cameras and screaming fans. Effie did little more than smile indulgently as she quickly escorted him by it all.

She let him lean against the lift wall as it ascended to the Penthouse. He felt his blood pounding through him. Her smell was consuming the confined space of the lift. They weren't close but he could feel her body heat reaching him and it made his blood boil with desire.

"Stop it," she snapped at him.

"Stop what?"

"Stop looking at me like that," she demanded, slightly breathless.

"Like what?"

"Like you want nothing more than to have your way with me, right here."

Haymitch turned to stare at the wall rather than remain looking at her. He knew the lift was moving as fast as they could design them in the Capitol, but it still felt too long in the confined space with Effie. They both quickly exited as soon as the doors opened on their level; Haymitch a lot steadier than when he got in.

Effie walked ahead of him towards the lounge area, but spun on him before the door way.

"Would you care to explain what set you off back there? And don't try and deny anything happened. You were fine when I left you and Pan. Next thing I know you are polishing off a bottle."

"Nothing, Sweetheart."

"Haymitch! After all this time you still won't trust me?"

"After all this time you never told me the truth?" he snapped back, stepping into her space.

"The truth about what?"

She didn't back down. She stood there looking at him, guarded but still annoyed.

"The night we _first_ met. Do you remember _that_?"

He pressed in closer to her. Her eyes widened slightly as she realised what he meant.

"Yes, I could never forget it," she whispered. "I never knew how to say it."

They both stood there breathing each other's breathe long past the point where they'd normally back off. He felt the moment change; they both leaned in closer.

"Do we really want to start this?" she asked still whispering. "We've denied it for six years already."

"It's been longer than that, _Mia_ ," he corrected using the name he'd been searching eight long years for. "But if you don't want this; stop me, push me away and walk off, now. Walk away." He intended to be harsh, but by the end he was almost begging her, "Walk away."

Instead, her hands wrapped themselves in his shirt and pulled him _closer_. "I don't want to."

Then his lips were on hers. Or was it hers on his? It didn't matter. It was rough; desperate; so reckless; too many emotions were simmering under the surface, he was both too close and too far away from her at the same time.

There was too much tongue and teeth, but at the same time it was so fucking perfect. So them. Haymitch felt like he was breathing fresh sweet air for the first time in his whole life. That first breathe of air when you break the surface after diving too deep. The warm sun on his face after being in the mines all day.

He had her pinned to the wall and there were too many clothes in the way. They clawed at each others clothes like animals. Pulling back slightly he ripped the red dress, that he was still convinced was defying the laws of gravity by staying on, off her body as she tore open his shirt.

Haymitch felt all thoughts leave his mind as his chest met hers and the large skin on skin contact set his body on fire. It felt like his mind was going to explode from the desire coursing though his veins. When Haymitch managed to make eye contact with Effie he could hardly see any blue in her irises. She was as lost in desire as he was.

With both of them lost there was only one option left; they went deeper into their unchecked desire.

When they finally resurfaced, Haymitch was panting into the crook of Effie's neck, her sweaty body pressed fully against his with an arm wrapped around his shoulder. A part of his mind told him to get off her; he was probably crushing her into the bed.

When did they reach her bed?

He groaned as he rolled over and remained panting looking at the ceiling. A content sigh escaped Effie and Haymitch felt a wave of animalistic pride shoot through him at the sound.

"We should _not_ have done that."

Haymitch might have taken offence if she didn't look so content and unrepentant. He propped himself on his elbow watching her.

"Then why did you, Princess? We've come close before but you've always put a stop to it. Why not this time?"

Something like fear or guilt crossed her eyes, and Haymitch saw she was going to leave the bed, but he didn't let her. He grabbed her waist, and pulled her close to him. She didn't meet his eye, so Haymitch rolled so he had her pinned between the bed and him.

"Mia, why this time?"

Maybe it was the use of her family nickname, or the way he was pinning her without forcing her, but she met his eyes and his heart lurched at the look within her azure gaze. Lost and scared. No, not scared; petrified.

"This is probably my last Games, Haymitch. One of my regulars is going to propose to me, and I've been _advised_ to accept." She whispered, "I've been sold for life."

Haymitch felt himself seize at her words.

No! He unconsciously pressed himself into her more; covered her body with his own; he would protect her. She was _his_.

"I'm sorry, I should have told you earlier, but I couldn't. I didn't know how to. I could hardly believe it myself. I was going to wait till he'd actually proposed, but he hasn't yet. And I felt your eyes on me all night; it was like I could feel a fire growing inside me with each look. I wanted to know what it would be like with you before... Before I'm-"

Any further response was cut off by his lips attacking hers again. He couldn't think about another man laying claim to her permanently. Not when he'd just discovered this; discovered how well they fit together. She fit him _perfectly_.

Not now after he'd _finally_ found her again.

But regardless of Haymitch's wish, two days later her engagement was splashed across various papers' covers and remained there until Gloss Blunt was crowned this year's Victor.

* * *

A backless dress and some beat up sneaks,  
My discotheque, Juliet teenage dream  
I felt it in my chest as she look looked at me  
I knew we were bound to be together, bound to be together

She took my arm  
I don't know how it happened  
We took the floor and she said,

* * *

 _Smut without smut... I will have one chapter where I will go into this, well at this point I do- if people would be interested in that -if not the chapter still reads well without. At least I think it does. Thoughts?  
Please review and let me know what you think. It's the best motivation I can get to finish off these last chapters and not get sucked into other ideas getting thrown my way._


	5. 70 HG

_I'll clarify here, now; I don't think Finnick was in love with Annie when she won her Games. I think it was over the course of her Victory Tour and the helping her come to terms with everything, that his feeling grew. He said, and I don't claim to be word perfect; "She snuck up on me." Soooo, don't expect a love-struck Finnick in this, basically._

 _I'm looking to update this every Sunday now, I've finally finished writing this thing! (YAY!) And I know it's a bit of a time jump 63-70, but that's where my mind went._

 _Aaand there are some more Doctor Who people mentioned but no real knowledge of who they is needed. Just more potential stories I_ might _find the time to write about..._

* * *

There were more Mentors here in the Announcement Room than there ever had been. Then again, there'd never been so many Tributes die off suddenly in one incident, leaving the Victor standing. Or swimming as it was the case this year.

He didn't want to begrudge Finnick or Mags their Victor, but _fuck it_ his boy had stood a real chance this year! He'd gotten past the Cornucopia and managed to keep his head past the dozen surprise attacks the Gamemakers had sent his way. He was Victor material! And they'd gotten a Doctor sponsor! That alone normally assures a top three spot! But the kid hadn't been a swimmer.

And that had been his downfall.

Drowned in a _fucking_ surprise flood; along with eight other kids, leaving Four's Annie Cresida the sole survivor and Victor, with an eight way fucking tie for second place. Actually, scratch that, they were still calculating the final places of when each kid stopped breathing. So here they were, waiting to find out the final places; Cashmere for One, Lyme for Two, Handles for Three, Ace for Five, Sarah Jane for Seven, Cecelia for Eight, Chaff for Eleven and him.

The Capitol made him sick.

He went to the bar to get another drink. While he was waiting for it Haymitch heard someone approach him from the public side of the bar. He was turning to tell them to fuck off after accepting the drink when he caught who it was, and bit his tongue. It was Doctor Twelve.

The tall man with greying hair stood next to him and locked his steal blue eyes with the District man. There was always an intensity to this man's eyes that made Haymitch sit up and pay attention. But that also could be his eyebrows that Haymitch felt like where going to jump off the man's face and attack him that made his eyes more commanding.

"Doctor," he nodded.

"Whiskey," he replied.

Haymitch raised an eyebrow. "That what you drinking?"

"No. That's you. You're Whiskey."

Haymitch just shrugged, he understood the Doctors all had their quirks; apparently this one liked assigning nicknames. He could deal with that. Not that he expected to deal with him again. It had taken him twenty years to get _one_ Tribute that caught the Capitol's attention. He didn't expect to get another.

And all the Doctors were notoriously hard to get interested in Tributes. Every now and then they'd have a surge of interest in the Games, but that had already happened recently.

"All right, I'm Whiskey." Haymitch took a drink of the liquor he was named after. "What do you call Chaff? That's his poison of choice too."

"He's Handless."

Haymitch struggled to school his features at that. He wasn't sure if he was meant to be amused or annoyed on his friend's behalf. Honestly it was a bit of both at the moment. He'd said it so factually Haymitch knew the man didn't really care if it caused offense or not.

Haymitch had more difficulty hiding his smirk at the thought of Effie having to work with this man. She would struggle to not berate him into niceties, but since he was from the Doctors he had money and influence like so few did. He'd pay to see her having to deal with this man.

"Our boy didn't make it," Haymitch said, cutting to the chase. "So, what is it you want?"

Haymitch saw flecks of green cross the man's eyes; it looked like approval, at his curt words.

"Not wasting time with frivolous words. I like you." Dr Twelve nodded. "That's quite the woman you have on your team Whiskey. She is beyond rare here in the Capitol."

"Effie?" Haymitch asked. Shit, she'd gotten one of the reclusive Doctors' respect. He wondered how she managed that. He shrugged, acting bored, "Tell me something I don't know."

"She managed to accomplish something that has only ever happened once in over sixty years."

That got his attention. He turned to face the Capitol man more fully.

"She got all twelve of us to agree, actually thirteen of us, to a change our act. The only other person who has ever done that was Susan." He must have looked as confused as he felt, because the man explained, "A woman the Chestertons knew well. She was gone long before your time. She convinced us to take an occasional interest in sponsoring. That changed everything for us.

"Your woman reminded us we had a choice to act, or not. That in-action can speak as loudly as any action can. She showed us we were standing on the wrong side of the issue."

"And what issue is that?" he pressed.

The way Dr Twelve was talking it sounded like he was meaning things that weren't meant to be spoken of in public. Haymitch felt a thrill of excitement go through him. Could he really be talking about revolution? Where they actually ready for that? Where there solid plans in place?

Having the District man's full attention the older man moved his jacket to reveal a flashing green device in his breast pocket. A sonic sound disruptor! He was blocking any listening devices that may be nearby. Why would he be doing that unless…

"Your woman managed to broker a deal for the girl who won. Got one of my associates to agree to act like he'd always intended to sponsor her, the paperwork just hadn't gotten through. While she was appealing she spoke of our unique position in the Capitol and the opportunities that could afford any cause we got behind."

"Are you talking about what I think you are?" Haymitch asked, fearfully hopeful.

"If you're thinking what I think you are thinking;" the Capitol man grinned, before lowering his voice, "then _yes_."

"Are we ready for that?"

"As a nation? No. But we can't continue the way we are forever. Change is coming. It's unavoidable. Once we have a common ideal, the sparks will start flying, and all thirteen will unite.

"When that happens; when friends from beyond Twelve get in touch, let them know; _the Doctors are in_ ," he cryptically said.

Before Haymitch could quiz him on what that exactly meant, there was a vibration noise and Dr Twelve cast his eyes around. He flared his jacket again, but the light wasn't flashing this time.

"Really is a shame about the flood," he said as if that's what they'd been talking about all along. "I heard that Tudor is voluntarily stepping down allowing another Gamemaker to take over as Head next year. Apparently, he claimed he was losing his edge and it was his inattention to details that lead to the miscalculation of the dam release. It was always to be the final, but wasn't meant to happen till there were only four or so left."

"Shame," Haymitch echoed. "I thought that's what Junior Gamemakers were for?"

"Yes," the grey haired man conceded. "But _that_ man won't be as fortunate with his future prospects."

Haymitch understood what wasn't said there. Tudor was keeping his head because he was taking the public blame for someone else's mistake. Whichever Junior Gamemaker's job that had been was going to be killed, if they hadn't already.

"They were about due for a change, weren't they?" Haymitch offered, waving down the barman for a re-fill.

Dr Twelve stood before the barman reached them.

"Probably. I enjoyed our chat Whiskey. Remember what I said," he said, patting the District man's shoulder and walking off.

Like he could fucking forget that. His words swam through Haymitch's mind.

 _The Doctors are in_ … _Friends from beyond Twelve_ … _And all thirteen will unite_ …

Thirteen… District Thirteen was still there! They fucking survived the bombing seventy years ago!

Collecting his new drink, Haymitch stood and left the bar headed back to the waiting room and the table he'd been occupying with Sarah Jane, Lyme and Chaff. He sat back down just in time to hear the anthem play, indicating they were announcing places. The four at the table faced the screen as it displayed those who ranked from ninth to sixth. Handle's boy was shown first, so he finished ninth. Then it was Lyme's boy; Sarah Jane's girl; and Cashmere's girl.

The four Mentors shook everyone on their table's hands in silence before they headed to the door that would allow them to sign off on their kid's death and release the body to be returned to their parents in the next day or two.

The four remaining Mentors moved together while they waited. This was going on forever.

It wasn't long until Finnick came in to join them in their waiting. Mags must be with their girl. He swaggered over to them and sat with a beaming grin.

"What's got you so happy?" Haymitch asked.

"We're getting the lovely Miss Trinket," he declared.

" _What_?!" Haymitch yelled jumping up. The other Mentors looked as shocked as Haymitch felt.

That wasn't right! They wouldn't move her! They _wouldn't_!

"This is our fifth year of apply for her transfer, both Mentors signing off on it. Next Reaping day Miss Trinket will be getting off at District Four," he grinned cockily, throwing a wink at the table.

The other three Mentor's chuckled at the nineteen year olds naivety as their surprise quickly became amusement. Haymitch resumed his seat; a lot calmer.

"Kid, that's not how transfer requests work," Chaff laughed. "If it was, Effie would have gotten off at Eleven the year your name was called. We've all been applying for her since the 60th; all three of us."

"Then you still wouldn't have gotten her," Cecelia chortled. "The Chestertons started applying for her halfway through her first Games as Escort. Every Mentor from Eight has signed off on a transfer request for her each year since. Some years we've put in one each."

"You're all wasting your time," Ace scoffed. "They'll never move her away from _him_." She pointed accusingly at Haymitch. "Last year showed them what he'd do if they did. All her time spent at 'engagement' dos and not keeping him, or his ditz of a friend," this was aimed at Chaff, "in line, meant they ran amuck. That's not something they want to see a repeat of any time soon. She's the only one who can whip them into a semblance of order. The only way she will ever get out of Twelve is if she ages out, dies, or they have a new Mentor; one they _can_ control."

"I object to the notion I'm as whipped as he is," Chaff interrupted, gesturing he was no Haymitch.

"I am not whipped!" Haymitch cried indignantly.

"P-lease," Ace cried with an eye roll. "You both do exactly what she wants whenever she wants it." She raised her hand to stop Chaff from interrupting her again. "Yes, I concede you aren't as whipped as Haymitch, but mate, you are pretty whipped by her too. Is she an ace lay or something?"

" _I_ wouldn't know," Chaff commented, grinning. "Do you Haymitch?"

"Fuck you," was the only reply.

"But she's too brilliant to be wasted in Twelve!" Finnick exclaimed, overcoming his sulking at their dismissal of his confident claim. "She could do so much if she were in a higher District!"

"Finnick, even Brutus has put in an application for her that went nowhere," Cecelia dismissed.

"But that was just because of the rumour about the deal she'd cut," Chaff commented.

"What deal?" Ace and Cecelia asked at the same time.

"None of your fucking business," Haymitch snapped, angrily glaring at Chaff for even mentioning that.

He was still _furious_ whenever he thought about _that_. Some times he thought she was suicidal! Why she'd put such an idea forward he had no _fucking_ clue. Before he could comment further the anthem played again and they all looked to the screen again. They were about to announce fourth and fifth place.

There was his boy's face. Percy Richmond; Twelve, male; final place: fourth.

Haymitch shook Finnick's, Ace's and Cecelia's hands. He and Chaff met each other's eyes and nodded grimly as they went through the door. They signed off on their finishing position and were told where and what time their train would be returning to their District.

Haymitch's was to be the first to leave after the Crowning Ceremony. He nodded to the attendant and both Mentors headed to the nearest bar.

The two of them downed their first drinks like they were cool water on a summer's day. When they got to their third drinks they both began slowing, sipping rather than drinking.

Haymitch was about half way through the drink when he sensed _her_ behind him. He turned; drink in hand, to face her. The teasing comment on the tip of his tongue died when grey met blue eyes.

Something was wrong.

She snatched his drink out of his hand and finished it. Chaff laughed and then she snatched his and finished it too. Chaff stopped laughing.

"Why do you both drink that disgusting drink?" she asked them both, her appreciation of the liquor had clearly not changed since her first taste.

"Why did you finish our drinks if you don't like it, Sweetheart?" Chaff asked, borrowing Haymitch's moniker.

"I need it tonight," she answered honestly.

"Why?" Haymitch asked, eyeing her with concern.

She didn't say anything but held out her hand. He suppressed a groan.

"You know I hate dancing."

"I know I'm going to hate our conversation more," she retorted immediately, anger and disgust laced under her words.

Curiosity had always been his downfall, and that tone piped his curiosity. And she knew it too. Begrudgingly he took her hand with more than one grumble escaping his lips. Chaff chuckled and made a whipping noise.

Haymitch tried to turn and refute the implied comment, but Effie had a hold of his arm and didn't let him turn back. She gave him one look that told him it all.

He had to do as she was bidding him if he wished to know anything; if he did she would answer nearly any question he asked; if he didn't he would get nothing out of her.

Damn! He _was_ whipped.

She led him to the noisiest part of the dance floor, where they could still hear each other without too much difficulty as they danced close.

"So, why are we here, Princess? What are you holding back from me?" he asked, dreading her answer.

"I've been booked out for the night."

"We lost a Tribute today, you don't work the nights a Tribute from Twelve dies."

The only part of _that_ deal he didn't hate.

"Tonight I am; as compensation for my unintended influence over events in the Games." She was staring fixated on his shoulder. "I'm the reason the flood happened," she whispered. His eyes asked the question that couldn't pass his lips. "You wouldn't know this, but there was a rule; no Gamemaker could hire a Victor or Escort as long as one of their Tributes was still in the Game."

Effie looked out amongst the people on the dance floor without seeing anything. Haymitch had to squeeze her slightly to bring her back.

"Junior Gamemaker Wilkmen Feathers has been… fixated on me lately. He's spent a large chunk of his sizable inheritance trying to make me his exclusively after President Snow refused to agree to marry me to him. But none of us expected him to act the way he did. None of us. He wasn't allowed to meet with me as long as Percy was alive," she trailed off.

He double damned his curiosity at this. He didn't want to know that. He didn't want to think about that.

"Animal Mutations are… was Wilkmen's forte. It became suspicious after Percy and his allies were forced to combat all the Game's most dangerous creatures within the first two days. He was never very good at environmental calculations I'm told," she trailed off again.

Haymitch didn't know what to say. He didn't think there was anything _to_ say really.

"He was our best chance at a Victor," Effie lamented softly.

The longing and obvious regret laced in the words resounded in Haymitch. He agreed, but he couldn't say that to her now; she was already punishing herself over this.

"You didn't kill him," he stressed to her in a feeble attempt to assuage some of her guilt.

"Didn't I? I called two names from Twelve; Percy had three allies; and six more children died in the flood. Eleven deaths on me this year," she said hollowly. "I got the most kills."

"No, you didn't," he corrected. "The Gamemakers did. They always do. The kills are on them."

"We _finally_ got a fighter," she lamented. Haymitch thought he saw her eyes glisten with unshed tears in the flashing lights.

"Why are you booked tonight if it was Feather's fault?" he asked. Confused about how they were blaming her; she was doing it enough herself.

"I should have made it clearer; that while I could _enjoy_ his company, he was never _my choice_ of companion," she answered detached, and obviously repeated the line she was given. "I'm just grateful there was no pink or white involved."

Haymitch let out a breath he wasn't even aware he'd been holding. Her night off being filled with appointments was her punishment, nothing more.

Nothing more?

Haymitch suppressed a shudder. He was spending too much time in the Capitol if he could think a night being forced to be an escort, in the original sense of the word, was nothing; to think of that as the best outcome for Effie.

Haymitch felt _hatred_ for the Capitol and Snow burn through him. It churned in his stomach in a way not even alcohol could sedate.

Then Doctor Twelve's words came back to him. There was actually solid talk of revolution. The Crowning Ceremony was still another day away. Haymitch would _find_ those people willing to act; the people smart enough to be able to find a way to contact Thirteen. Haymitch was good with planning and strategy, he'd help them make plans for when a spark would ignite Panem.

He must have straightened unconsciously at this thought, because Effie gave him a curious look.

"What is it Haymitch?" she asked, studying his eyes closely.

He averted his eyes answering, "Nothing Princess, just a thought. Nothing you need worry about."

He wouldn't trouble her with this. She had enough on her plate without him adding to it by admitting to planning to seek out and assist rebels. She'd probably help or join him.

He kept his eyes on the people dancing near them till he felt her scrutinising blue eyes leave him. He couldn't lie to her looking her in the eye.

Change _is_ inevitable. And Haymitch would do whatever he could to see that it happened. Not just for those in the Districts, but also the people considered 'lower' in the Capitol too. This madness has to stop.

Eight kids killed in a 'freak' flood because a Gamemaker couldn't wait to get into his Effie's pants, he thought.

Wait, _his Effie_? -no he meant his Escort.

His Escort… Maybe she was his. Everyone already thought it, so why couldn't he?

What was it Doctor Twelve had called her? _His woman_.

His woman was already in deep trouble. What was one more dance in the crowded bar where no one was paying attention to them? They both needed the other close tonight, and this was as close as they were going to get before she had to go to her appointments.

* * *

"Oh don't you dare look back.  
Just keep your eyes on me."  
I said, "You're holding back."  
She said, "Shut up and dance with me!"  
This woman is my destiny  
She said, "Ooh-ooh-hoo, shut up and dance with me."

Oh, come on girl!

* * *

 _Please leave a review and let me know what you think. Are you loving or hating what I'm painting here?_

 _Thanks for taking the time to read!_


	6. 75 HG

_I upped the rating because I wasn't sure if parts of this warranted a higher rating or not. Considering how much further my mind originally went when I was writing this up comparatively it isn't as steamy or ANYthing like that (which probably says more about the way my mind works, than this part of the story...), but I'd rather be safe than risk getting in trouble for something like this._

 _Aaaand anyone who's read 'True Colours' will see parts of that are re-used here because it fit and is set in that exact time._

 _On with the story-_

* * *

Haymitch sipped slowly from his ice tea in a short glass. He needed to get his body ready for the detox he was going to go through in Thirteen and start cutting down his drinking. Three drinks a day he was allowing himself; one with each meal. Unless something happened, then Haymitch would make no promise.

No Alcohol. What place would have such a ridiculous rule? Prohibition was nothing but sheer stupidity and a form of cruel and unusual punishment.

Looking around he couldn't believe he was here at another of these absurd Sponsor dos. No one was giving them any attention, not with Snow putting word out about his desire for this year's Victor to _not_ be from Twelve. It was just a waste of their time.

His eyes found Effie as she charmed a man who had sponsored them the year before. He watched her try for another ten minuets before the guy found an excuse to leave her company. Haymitch chuckled as she shook off the dismissal and lay on the charm to a different woman; another previous sponsor. This woman appeared interested for five minuets before she begged off and went else where.

It was after this one that she looked over and caught his eye.

Uh-oh. He was going to be in trouble now. And damn he didn't have Chaff or anyone else to blame either.

He turned to face the bar and tried to keep sipping his drink casually. Maybe she wouldn't come over and bite his head off. And maybe Snow would decide to treat all the people of Panem fairly.

Yeah right. Each was as likely as the other.

She didn't need to say anything, she hadn't for years; he knew she was behind him. Slowly, like a man about to be condemned, he turned to face her. He opted against looking either apologetic or repentant and went for bored and annoyed- his usual look.

"Yes Princess?"

"Are you going to do anything at all to help me here today?"

"Nope," he popped and grinned at her, mainly for the benefit of the nearby sponsors.

"Haymitch-"

"They're in an alliance, and no one is interested in us. Why should I break my back, then?"

"Because we both know this alliance can't last forever," she snapped.

He rolled his eyes and took another sip of his drink. She snatched the drink from his hand.

"I'll give you a choice; either you take to the floor with me and help me get sponsors now, or I'll ensure there is no alcohol in the Penthouse till the end of the next Games."

"That's not a choice Sweetheart, that's an ultimatum."

She passed the glass she'd taken from him under her nose on its way to the bar. Her eyes snapped up to his when the smell registered for her. Haymitch had to hide his smirk; she'd thought he was drinking.

"Give it whatever name you'd like; you still have to make your choice."

Haymitch gave a disgruntled grunt and put his arm out for her to take.

Not giving him a chance to change his mind she quickly led them to the dance floor. He stuck their usual pose and they glided around with a grace and ease that can only be found with familiarity. The usual sponsors didn't bat an eye, but Haymitch saw more than a few people keep their eyes on them.

"When are they acting on the plan?" she asked softly.

"They're going ahead with Beetee's plan tonight and," he answered just as quietly, "we both know that's when everything changes. We don't need to worry about actually getting any sponsors at this point."

"I _know_ that, but we have to be seen trying," Effie bit back. "If we just disappear to our rooms and aren't seen even trying to get sponsors at this stage it will be suspicious. It's all for appearances now. This whole _Quell_ is for damned appearances. I _get_ that."

How much did she keep hidden away from the world? Not much escaped her notice, and he could see she was getting tired of it all. Tired of the lies and pretending she was unaware or unaffected by the suffering of others. Tired was dangerous in this den of vipers they called the Capitol, and seventeen years is a long time to be pretending.

Grey locked with blue and in that heart-beat Haymitch knew if he was going to have any chance of living, _living_ , once this oncoming war was over; she needed to be there too. His heart raced at these thoughts. He was too scared to identify the emotion that was following these thoughts. He shouldn't think like this on the eve of War.

He _shouldn't_ be but he _was_.

Somehow Effie was the exception. She was always his exception.

He stopped their dance and whispered, "Can we go now? No one's interested in sponsoring us. We could be spending out time in another way."

He wanted to make sure he had memories to keep him company for his time in Thirteen. He wanted to memorize as much of her as he could; he had been doing that this whole Games but more time never went astray.

Effie's eyes showed that she was having similar thoughts. She didn't want to spend her time with this crowd when he was going to be disappearing from the Capitol tonight.

Instead she levelled an angry glare at him that if he didn't know her as well as he did he would have been cowed. However he knew there was no heat in her look. She had to be mad at him for them to have an excuse to leave.

Appearances.

She had to seem annoyed at him having just sat at the bar and not helping her; again. She'd been pissed at him enough times for this exact reason, although normally much earlier in the Games, that he knew their routine by heart. It didn't always involve a turn on the dance floor, but it was also know to have happened.

"You'll go back to the bar and finish your 'drink'," she instructed him out of the corner of her mouth, "then act like you're going to talk to Madam Nefili. On your way accidently bump into Zeno Florents; he's drinking more than you would in any other Game. He's never far from either the bar or the buffet table since Cashmere was killed. That should be enough to get both of you covered in either food or drink and give us an excuse to leave."

Haymitch stopped and looked at her. "How long have you been scheming this?"

"I always I have an exit plan for these functions. And I always keep track of those who are vulnerable. Whether it's to manipulate them myself or stop them from getting into too much trouble," was her curt reply. She kept her voice low, but most could hear she sounded annoyed at Haymitch.

"Right, I'm just glad you're on my side."

"And don't you forget it," she pipped before walking off; a fake smile on her face to greet some one at the dance floor's edge.

Haymitch stood there for a moment fighting to keep his face blank. He could _not_ smile now.

"Haymitch!" she snapped, jerking him into action.

"Yeah, yeah," he called back waving her off. "I'm going, I'm going. I'm just gonna finish me drink."

Haymitch did exactly as Effie had instructed him; he finished his drink, mumbled something about Madam Nefili loud enough for others at the bar to hear him, and on his way in the direction of Nefili he tripped into Zeno Florents. They both lost their balance and fell into the cake display on the buffet table.

Unfortunately, both their weight was more than the table could take, and it broke; sending even more food onto them. Effie came over screeching at him.

Haymitch met her eye and he could see the amusement shinning in them despite her aura of anger. This had gone better than she'd planed. His left hand had some how ended up in the cream-puff platter so he offered her his right hand to help him up.

She took it, and Haymitch couldn't resist giving her a sharp tug, causing her to overbalance and end up in the mousse spread next to him. Laughter erupted around them, and Haymitch had to put up with her genuine anger for the trip back to the Training Centre, but it was worth it.

As soon as they set foot in the lift he tried to reach for her, but she wacked his hand away.

"Glass lift," she muttered under her breath, staring out at the clear view they had of the Training Centre lobby.

Haymitch just sighed as he licked the weird cream concoction his left hand was covered in. He perused Effie with his eyes and a wolfish grin covered his face at the state she was in.

"What?" Effie asked, not even sparing him a glance, clearly feeling his heated gaze, as her voice sounded husky.

Haymitch felt even more blood run south.

"You're covered in my favourite mousse. I think I'll enjoy the flavour even more," he rumbled, his own voice thickening with desire.

Her breath caught and when she met his eye just before the doors opened to the Penthouse he could see her eyes were darkened with desire. They exited the lift quickly and Haymitch lingered in the hall; unsure where they were to head.

"I can't trust you to clean yourself properly, can I?" Effie asked, her hand grabbing him at his elbow. "If I left it to you, you'd just change your outfit. Come on; my bathroom now."

She spoke like she was irritated and he was drunk, but Haymitch could see the smouldering look in her eyes. Wordlessly he let her guide him into her room.

The TV was programmed to always turn on whenever she was in her room and the soft sound of the arena and the commentators filled the room; masking their movements.

He pressed her immediately into the wall by her dresser; his mouth latching onto hers. One of her legs lifted to wrap around his waist, keeping him close, while both their hands went to her wig removing all the pins.

As soon as the last one was removed Haymitch tossed the gold thing away and watched her short blond hair escape the confines of the net she wore underneath the wig. He ran a hand through the locks, marvelling at how soft to the touch it was.

Just like her, he thought. Big rough extravagant wigs and clothes hid the soft and tender woman underneath it all. His Effie.

With her hands now free, she made quick work of his shirt buttons and was pushing it down off his shoulders before he could take his eyes off her hair. Her hand forcing his hand to trail up from his belt and collecting the cake remnants brought his attention back to what they'd started.

She held his cake covered finger between them, and she gave him her most seductive look as she licked his finger clean. He felt his mouth water as his digit disappeared into her warm, wet mouth. Then she scraped her teeth over his finger, giving a soft moan as her tongue swirled over the tip removing the cake that was there.

Haymitch attacked her mouth, chasing the flavour of the cake. Whatever it was called, it was so rich, it was almost bitter. But having it like this? He could eat a whole cake of that if this was how he was eating it.

His hands lifted her other leg to wrap securely around his waist. A deep moan escaped them both as they ground against each other. Their foreheads rested together as they caught their breath; hips still creating a delicious friction.

Haymitch looked down and saw the top of her dress and a perfect circle of her chest exposed was covered in the mousse. The sight brought a hungry smirk to his face. Both his hands came up, cupping her breasts and he began licking it clean.

Effie's head fell back, her arms pulling his head closer as his name spilled from her lips over and over again; her hips moving against his.

If he thought the cake had tasted good before that was nothing compared to how fucking fantastic the mousse was. His favourite flavour too, strawberry.

Haymitch became so absorbed in the task he'd set himself in cleaning her, it took Effie pulling on his hair for him to meet her lust filled eyes for him to realise how close she was.

"Stop teasing me," she growled at him.

Haymitch adjust their hip movement and pressed her hard against the wall sending her over the edge. His name falling from her lips repeatedly like that's all she was capable of saying. He just stood there and watch her as her body continued to spasm thorough her pleasure; memorising it.

She finally caught her breath and met his eye. He could drown in her blue eyes.

"I believe I offered to assist you in the bathroom," she purred, a hand slipping between them and cupping him, still in his pants.

"Yes," he moaned. "Oh yes, Effie."

She lowered her legs and led him into the bathroom by the buckle of his pants.

More than once, they were cleaned, mostly dry, then Haymitch would pull her back under the spray and they'd have their way with the other again and again. Each time was slightly different; different position; alternating dominance; but they were all done with a tenderness that Haymitch couldn't name.

He knew what it was he felt, he could identify it, but he couldn't name it. Well, he _could_ name it, but he wouldn't. He wouldn't condemn her like that. All those he said that to ended up dead, and he _couldn't_ see Effie killed. So that four letter word was better not even mentioned here.

Once they were finally dry and had left the bathroom, Effie backed Haymitch onto her bed. Straddling him, she curled her right arm around his neck and pulled his right hand on her chest, right over her heart with her left.

"Yours," she whispered.

Haymitch felt his heart race. She was and she wasn't saying it. She wasn't saying it to try and make him say it back.

She was simply giving him her heart.

And fuck, that scared him more than the thought of Panem erupting in a war. War he could manage; there were actions and counter actions; anticipation and feinting. That shit he could predict. Feelings were too unpredictable; too volatile.

He couldn't be trusted with someone's heart!

Scared grey eyes met unwavering blue. She wasn't presuming anything. He could see it in her eyes. She was simply letting him know; he had her heart and she loved him.

He attacked her lips to hide how scared he was. The taste of her soothed him like nothing else ever had; like nothing else in this world ever could. She was his. His right hand squeezed possessively.

"Mine," he growled.

He moved so that she was flat on the bed and he was pressing her into it. Her appreciative moan made the possessive animal inside him crow. _She was his; heart and soul!_

He left her lips to trail down her body. He lingered over all the places that made her call his name in breathless gasps; the places she didn't let any client explore. The spots on her body only _he_ knew about. Trailing back up her body he paused and placed a lingering soft kiss over her left breast. Her heart belonged to him. He squeezed his eyes shut and kissed her there again. _It was his!_

He propped himself on his right arm. When he met her eye, he now understood that look he'd seen in her eyes so many times over the last few years; love.

He grabbed her right hand and placed it over his hammering heart. This he could do. He might not be able to use that four lettered word, but this he could do. He opened his mouth to return the heart offering.

But it stuck in his throat.

Anger and frustration at himself coursed through him. He wasn't even saying those three words! It was just one word he needed to get out. Five letters, that's it. He could do it. He could!

Effie smiled at him and her nails raked possessively over where he'd placed her hand. She leaned up and captured his mouth saving him from having to say the _one word_.

He hoped she understood what he meant.

Haymitch may not be good with words, but he was _very_ good with actions. So, instead he showed her how he felt as many times as he could that day.

Hours later, they lay still naked in her bed tangled, the TV volume low, and they could see their kids were seated on the beach watching the sunset before they set Beetee's plan into action. Haymitch could feel dread starting to rise in him. He was going to have to go soon. His fingers trailed along her spine absentmindedly.

"Do whatever you have to keep them safe Haymitch," she demanded. "The children are your first priority. Promise me." She propped herself up to meet his eyes, while lying on top of him. "Promise me you will keep them **both** safe."

"I promise," he whispered.

How was it he could promise her that, but he couldn't offer her the words she wanted to hear more? He never made promises. He hated that he made this promise so easily. If she asked right now he'd promise her anything. _Anything_.

"They have to make it," she said, resting her head on his chest again, oblivious to his inner turmoil; her promise secured. "They have to get their happy ending." Then more softly she added, "One of us has to."

"What does that mean Sweetheart?"

She didn't answer him instead she straddled his hips and took his breath away in a searing kiss. Soon he was too distracted by her; too distracted by her moans, her eyes, the way she woke every part of his body again, to remember she didn't answer him.

He admitted to himself that he was as much hers and she was his.

As he slipped on his clean clothes that she kept in a bottom draw and quietly snuck out of her room, he felt regret tug at his heart. Why couldn't he have just said the words back?

When he reached the roof and the awaiting hovercraft another resolve swept through him. They had to survive this war. _She had to_. So that maybe, just maybe, he could find the courage to let her know what his feelings for her were; _how_ much she meant to him.

* * *

Deep in her eyes  
I think I see my future  
I realise this is my last chance

She took my arm  
I don't know how it happened  
We took the floor and she said,

* * *

 _Three more chapter to go. Thanks for taking the time to read, please drop a review and let me know what you think; liked it, love it or not._


	7. 1 AW

_Only two more chapter to go for this story and while I have two stories vying for more attention; an Effie in prison story and a continuation of my Harry Potter AU,_ _I also_ _ **REALLY**_ _want to come up with a name for this universe I've created. Calling it my HungerWho-verse doesn't feel right because while I have incorporated a lot Doctor Who characters, they really have their own stories that only occasionally intersect with the Hunger Games side of it, and the Hayffie parts I enjoy exploring. If anyone has any ideas- please let me know! (either in a review or with a PM) Thanks._

 _Well, that's enough from me, here's chapter 7, hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think._

* * *

It'd been a bad day. Haymitch stormed into her apartment angry. If this wasn't a slap in the face for all he'd done, he didn't know what was. What a load of bullshit!

Hadn't he done enough for them? Hadn't the girl? They'd sacrificed and lost so much, and _this_ was how they were being repaid? This offer was _crap_!

Being shipped off back to Twelve?! The one place in all of Panem he _didn't_ want to be!

The Capitol came a close second, but Twelve was number one in places he did _not_ want to have spend his life in after the war. The place was filled with so many bad memories for him; sure there were _some_ good, but the bad had the upper twenty-five to sixteen. And he knew the people of Twelve would take a long time to get over Effie's past there. All their plans of settling in Four to be close to Annie and her baby; gone up in smoke with this _fucking offer_!

He paced around her lounge room. It wasn't their preferred option, _obviously_ , but maybe they could make it work in Twelve. No, he knew they could. The important thing was that they'd face it together.

And he'd break the nose of anyone who gave her grief till the message sunk in. A smirk covered his face. He could enjoy that too.

Calmed, he took a deep soothing breath and sat on her couch. Now all he had to do was explain this to Effie. And that was the key, wasn't it?

He heard her come padding into the kitchen, and he took a calming breath before calling to her, "Hey Effie, I'm back."

"Hi, I didn't hear you come in. How did today go?'

He gave a non-committal noise, as he heard her come in the lounge.

"I received some good news today," Effie started, excited enough to not quiz him immediately on his lack of response.

Haymitch couldn't see her face, but he could tell she was trying to contain her pleasure.

"Oh?" He turned to look at her as she came to his side of the couch.

"I've been granted conditional custody of my nephew and niece; Dion and Lysa," she said with a huge smile. Her genuine smile too and Haymitch couldn't help grin back at her. "I will have a case worker come and check on us randomly every three to six months and they will do that for two to three years. If there's no issue in that time I will be granted full custody."

That was the best they could've hoped for when she applied for guardianship of them. He got to his feet and enveloped her in a warm congratulatory embrace.

Then it hit him. Those kids were nine and three. They would _never_ be allowed to migrate to Twelve in the state it's in without breaching the conditions of her guardianship.

 _Fuck_! Effie wouldn't be able to come with him! His grin disappeared and he involuntarily stiffened.

He could never ask her to choose between him and the last remnants of her family. It would do nothing but leave a bitter taste in his mouth and she would grow to resent him for it.

"What?" she asked, pulling back to eye him warily. "What's the matter Haymitch?"

"That's great news, Effie," he offered weakly. "I got news today too."

"About Katniss; they reached a decision?" She perked up just as eager about their girl as her nephew and niece.

"Yeah," he started slowly.

He couldn't tell her this looking at her and sober. He could only achieve one of those options in the next minuet, so he avoided eye contact and went to her mini bar; hoping to gain some liquid courage, even if he couldn't get drunk. Haymitch emptied the last of her whisky, which she only bought for him anyways, into a glass.

"They'll only release her to me, since her mum has nicked off to Four. They're sentencing her to life in Twelve on the condition that she continues her treatment with Dr Aurelius by phone; her travel rights are suspended for five years. Even after the five years she will need to give the government a month's notice of any place outside of the boundaries of Twelve she wishes to go to," he mumbled, still not able to meet her eye.

He heard her voice hitch at his words. She knew what this meant.

"You're being sentenced to Twelve with her aren't you?"

He nodded gravely.

"That's all their willing to offer?"

"Yeah," he chuckled humourlessly. "Apparently if I refuse it, they will send her to a mental hospital instead. You know the one near the ex-Presidential mansion, and we both know how she'll react to that."

He slumped back into the couch. He rested the hand not holding his glass over his eyes. He didn't want to see her face when she realised what this meant for _them_.

"When do they expect your answer?" she asked. She'd moved next to him, but hadn't seated herself down.

"Tomorrow morning," he said, peeking form behind his hand.

She had her arms wrapped tightly around her stomach, her bottom lip between her teeth. She was looking past him, her eyes misting over.

He clenched his jaw as he dropped the other shoe.

"The hovercraft is to leave before midday."

Her eyes shot to him, shocked.

"You're leaving tomorrow?"

He broke eye contact as he muttered, "They're not leaving me much of a choice. Tomorrow Katniss is either on a hovercraft going to Twelve with me, or she is being shipped to the mental hospital."

"Well," Effie started, in a voice Haymitch hadn't heard in a long time; her Escort voice. "We'll just have to make the most to tonight then, won't we?"

Haymitch quickly got to his feet and met her eye; his previous fear gone at the thought of her disappearing behind that mask again. Not now. Not tonight.

"Don't," he growled, putting his drink down to frame her face in his hands. "Don't be _her_ , not tonight; not ever again."

A tear escaped as she nodded to him. Her arms wrapped around him tightly burying her face into his chest.

"I know it's selfish, but I don't want to go. I don't want to have to face this without you. But I don't want Katniss in that place more."

She pulled back and walked over to her small stereo. Haymitch picked up his drink again, taking a long fortifying sip. She turned on some music and walked back to Haymitch her hand out expectantly.

"What?" he asked looking at her hand.

"Dance with me?"

Haymitch couldn't stop his eyes from going to her. Normally she'd just demand a dance, this was a definite question.

"Please? I want to be in your arms and feel you close, but I …" she bit her lip again. "I'm not ready for…"

Haymitch quickly put his drink down again, and grabbed her hand spinning her under his arm before drawing her in close.

He wasn't sure if it was strictly dancing, what they were doing, but they were swaying in time to the music. And if he was honest, it was nice to just hold her in his arms like this. Her smell surrounding him; calming him.

If only they could be like this forever. If only he'd kept a better eye on Katniss during the War, or Prim for that matter. Why did he let that girl out of his sight? If only he'd stood his ground and made Effie come with them to Thirteen or failing that made sure they searched for her when they got Peeta, Jo and Annie out. She would've seen what Coin was going to play. Effie was good at watching out for the details he often overlooked. How much better would they all be if he'd just kept his fucking promise?

Haymitch wasn't sure if he said all that out loud, or if Effie just knew him that well, but she gave him a supportive squeeze.

"Don't look back, Haymitch. We can't change what's happened. All we can do is look forward to the future," she said softly.

This irritated him more than he could express for some reason he couldn't explain.

"The future?" he repeated, annoyed. He stopped their dance and gave her a hard look. "What's there to look forward to in my future Princess? You'll be stuck here in the Capitol with your nephew and niece where you'll fall into the Capitol way of life, while I'm being shipped off back to Twelve with our girl! It will be just like before, only worse because we _could've_ been facing this together. We could've been getting away from all this shit. We could've been going somewhere better than _Twelve; together_."

"There's no reason I have to stay here forever," she tried to compromise, grabbing his gesticulating arms. "I may not be allowed to move with you _now_ , but they won't have these restrictions on Twelve forever."

She looked away to where the music was softly coming from, "Besides, when it gets lifted you may have found someone more suited for district life and choose her. I'm sure you could be very happy Haymitch; you have every chance of it; you have so much to give."

Haymitch stopped and looked at Effie. She'd said the last comments in a light, sad tone, but he knew her too well. There was a fear behind those comments. Then it hit him. She still didn't expect him to love her back. They'd done something to her in those cells that genuinely made her doubt herself; made her doubt _him_. The fact he never actually said it to her coming back to haunt him.

"That would involve me looking, Princess. You have to look to find something. I stopped even noticing other women _years_ ago."

He lifted her chin so their eyes met. The uncertainty that shone out of her blue eyes shook him. She was never this uncertain about them before. She'd always know him better than he knew himself. What had they done to her?

"There will never be _anyone_ else," he stressed to her. "I waited nearly twenty years for us to get to this point Princess; I guess a few more years ain't so bad," he conceded with a shrug. "And there is the option of me visiting. Palyor was saying something about wanting me to come regularly to the Capitol to be part of some council. I could accept that job. I don't have the same restrictions as Katniss."

"You hate coming to the Capitol, Haymitch. The point of the War was to free people, not trap them. I won't stop you from a chance of happiness."

She shrugged away from his arms and went to look out the darkened window of her apartment. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her stomach again.

Haymitch _hated_ seeing her haunted like this. Even worse, he had no idea what had caused it, or how to help her. He walked up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder and she flinched. Immediately he withdrew it.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

"Effie?"

She looked to him over her shoulder. His insides lurched. Her eyes were bloodshot and tears were leaving tracks down her cheeks. She was crying. He'd made her cry!

"What is it? What have I done?" he asked, genuinely confused.

He was happy to see the spark of anger envelop her azure eyes, even if it was directed at him.

"I know about her, okay?" she snapped. "I saw you!"

"Who? What did you see?"

Haymitch was lost. What was he meant to have done now?

"They showed me the footage of Finnick's and Annie's wedding. I saw you dancing with her. I saw the way she looked at you. The mother of the boy Katniss was friends with. The woman you hired to clean your house."

Haymitch almost wanted to laugh. She was jealous! That's why she was acting so odd! If the situation wasn't so tense, if she wasn't so hurt and scared, he would have laughed in her face at that. Fortunately he had the sense not to; for once.

"There never has been, and never will be, anything between Hazel Hawthorne and me. It was for the promo only! She asked me, and I only danced with her because it was a dance from Twelve no one in Thirteen knew. It was just meant to remind the Districts there was something _worth_ fighting for; to let Snow know he hadn't broken us. _That's all_ ," he emphasised.

"You _never_ voluntarily dance," she whispered. "I've always had to coerce you to dance with me; or tempt you with talk about something away from bugs. You've never danced with me just because you wanted to. Then, there it was before my eyes; you smiling as you danced with another woman in your arms. A woman who looked at you like you meant almost as much to her as her children. A woman who could give you a family and a life I never could."

More tears stole their way down her cheeks.

"Haymitch, the trauma I received in the cells means I'm never going to have children. I can never give you a child. All I can offer you is baggage. I wake screaming from night terrors every night. Some times I'm loud enough to disturbs my neighbours, and I'm about to become the guardian of two children who are struggling to adjust to the changing world! My nephew is still reeling from witnessing his parents' _murder_ before his eyes by his uncle, and my niece is yet to say a word since they died.

"That's nothing but baggage! I can't do that to you," she may be crying as she spoke, but her voice didn't wavier over any words. "You deserve a chance to _enjoy_ your life after the Games, after the War Haymitch."

"What about what I want?" Haymitch asked softly. "I could be anywhere in the Capitol right now, Princess; I could be getting wasted in a bar; or with Hazel and her kids in another apartment somewhere here; or doing something absolutely crazy with Jo; or going over possible actions and ways to spin Katniss' sentence with Plutarch; or helping Beetee plan his research facility; or sorting through the recovery priorities with Paylor. But I'm not.

"I'm exactly where I want to be. I'm here. I'm with you. Of all the places and people in Panem the only thing I know I want; is that I want to be near _you_. That's why I hate this deal they've offered Katniss. It means I can't be with you."

He held her face in his hands as the words came pouring out of him. He wasn't stopping to think about it, even as they kept coming. That's why the next words just slipped out.

"I need to know you will be part of my future, because I love you too much to think of this war as won without you being in my life!"

The words hung in the air like the sound of a gun shot.

Both their eyes widened as the realisation of what he'd said sunk in. Trust it to them for him to finally get those three words out while they were in an argument.

"Y-you love m-me?" she shakily asked.

Haymitch was more than a little stunned that he'd gotten the words out himself. He hadn't said those words to anyone since his family was killed over twenty-five years ago. Her question snapped him back, and he nodded.

"I don't know when exactly it happened, but _you_ became the most important person to me in this whole messed up crazy world."

A trembling smile covered her lips, and her hands came up to caress his face.

"I love you too." She let out a watery chuckle. "I never thought you'd actually say it."

Haymitch join her in chuckling. "You and me both, Princess." He kissed the fingers that were tracing his lips. "You and me both."

His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her into him tightly. He covered her lips with his. He may not be good with using words; he normally just let his actions speak for him; tonight he was managing to do both. He felt her melt into his embrace, her arms snaking around his neck, keeping him close.

Her hands raked through his hair in the way he loved most, and he moaned at the feel. His fingers played with the hem of her shirt before a hand snuck under to caress her bare back. A returning moan set his blood afire and his hand moved higher. He soon felt something he'd never felt on Effie's back before; scar tissue.

She stiffened instantly, and tried to pull away from him but Haymitch didn't let her. He just moved his hand back out from under her top and kept a firm hold of her waist.

"There's no rush, Princess."

Her breath had quickened, like she was in a panic, her arms holding his biceps.

"They're ugly Haymitch. I don't want you seeing me as ugly."

"They show that you're a fighter; that when things went bad you stood for what was right." He pecked her nose and smiled. "If I still wanted you when you were caked in that make up shit and cover in those hideous clothes, what makes you think a few marks on your body would change that?"

"It's not just a few, Haymitch," she answered, resting her head on his shoulder. "There's so many. Some will fade, but most…"

"I don't care," Haymitch snapped. "You're here; you're alive. That's more than I thought I was going to get for most of the damned War. Would your feelings change if I'd been caught in a fire like Katniss? Does how she look effect how you care for her?"

"Of course not," she instantly dismissed.

"Then why would I?"

She buried her face into his neck, her arms going around his chest.

"Thank you," she whispered so softly, Haymitch wasn't sure if she meant for him to hear or not.

He kissed her neck and just held her close. They remained holding each other close till Haymitch heard the music still playing change.

He nuzzled her ear and whispered, "Are we going to finish this dance? If not there's a bed behind one of those doors that's got our names all over it. I'm going to need some sleep if I'm going to face tomorrow and what that will entail."

Effie pulled back and the smile on her face made Haymitch's insides lift. As long as she could give him those smiles he knew everything would work out.

"Shut up and dance with me," she grinned.

* * *

"Oh don't you dare look back.  
Just keep your eyes on me."  
I said, "You're holding back."  
She said, "Shut up and dance with me!"  
This woman is my destiny  
She said, "Ooh-ooh-hoo, shut up and dance."

* * *

 _So please let me know what you think, and if have any universe name suggestions I'm to hear them._

 _Thanks for reading! And please PLEASE **PLEASE** leave a review. I don't mind if it's within a week of me posting or years time; a review always brightens my day and inspires me to write more and often faster._


	8. 5 AW

_Hey, RL is just too hectic for me atm so I'm just finishing this off this now. And to help any one who may be confused or a little lost with where things are in terms of MY timeline here's a run down;_

 _Dance With Me -chapters 2-5: these are in chronological order (and the chapter title tells you which Hunger Games it is set in)  
_ _Passion Lends Them Power: set during the 75th but before...  
Dance With Me -chapter 6: just at the end of the 75th and before the war starts  
True Colours: set during the War  
Dance With Me -chapter 7: the first year after the the War (why chapter title is: 1 AW)  
Where They Belong: essentially 4 AW, Effie having had guardianship of Dion and Lysa for 3 yrs  
what's in a Name?: 5 AW, I think I calculated it as approximately 9 months after 'Where They Belong'  
Dance With Me -chapter 8: 5 AW, a couple months after 'what's in a Name?'  
Dance With Me -chapters 1&9: set 8 years after the War._

 _I have a number of other one-shot ideas floating around in my head connecting all together creating a bigger plot; detailing MY view of how things happen in the Capitol, incorporating Doctor Who companions, established Hunger Game Victors and few originals- but a lot of this is just in my head. [not even touching the complex idea of a journey of identity I created for Dion to discover if he 'felt' more Trinket or Snow in who he was (of his mother's family or his father's) and how that affects his relationship with Haymitch. How they manage what they feel versus their image in the media and people who look to use Dion for their own agenda... yeah weird and complex, and I'm sure no else is interested anyways...] Some of these I've written out parts of, others I think are safer locked away in my mind._

 _But this has become a MUCH longer note than I'd intended so I shall stop boring you with my mindless prattling and give you the next chapter:_

* * *

"So," Lysandra started, turning to look at both her Aunt and Haymitch, "does this make it all official then?"

"Yeah, does this make you officially our _Uncle_ , Uncle Mitch?" Dionysius asked an infectious grin on his face.

Haymitch looked down at the document in his hand, and struggled to give them an indifferent shrug as he placed it on the dinning table.

"It's just a piece of paper," he muttered in his gruffest voice.

Unfortunately, living with him had given the two kids immunity to his bark. They continued to grin at him expectantly.

"That says…" Effie prompted, passing him on her way to the kitchen, her smile audible.

Haymitch huffed, before he caught twinkling blue and green eyes. A smirk crossed his face.

"Legally you're both Abernathy now."

The words were barely out of his mouth before he was hit by two brunette projectiles. They held him tight; not to say he wasn't holding them just as tightly back, and he took a moment to let that sink in.

It was done. The three of them were _his_!

Sure not a drop of his blood ran through either kid's veins, but since when did that make family?

He'd hadn't had blood family in thirty years, and now he had a wife, two kids- no wait, make that five kids- because Jo, Katniss and Peeta were as much his as the two currently in his arms, legal papers aside, and then there were Annie, her boy and Beetee who were like cousins. And that's not even covering Sae and the others in Twelve. That is a lot of family for a boy who watched all those he shared blood with burn before his eyes.

Looking up, he saw Effie watching from the doorway. A few silent tears escaped down her cheeks as she smiled at them. He met her eye and grinned.

"Get over here Mrs Abernathy," he ordered.

With a chocked laugh she soon had her arms around them all. The four of them stood there in an awkward hug, which somehow wasn't that awkward. Haymitch removed his arm from around Dionysius's shoulder and cupped Effie's face drawing her into a kiss.

Honestly, he'd only intended for it to be a peck, but with the emotions coursing through him, he couldn't keep it to that. They deepened it, and Haymitch felt his chest swell.

Soon, two cries of disgust broke into their moment, and he felt the kids trying to separate them.

"Stop it!" called Lysandra.

"We do _not_ need to witness this!" Dionysus agreed with his sister.

Haymitch saw amusement dancing in Effie's eye as they pulled back.

"You know you're interrupting our honeymoon. You know what people _normally_ do on that boy?"

He watched the teen go a sickly shade of green as the realisation passed through his mind.

"Eew! I don't want to think about that! Why would you say that to me?!" He could see the boy _was_ disgusted at the thought, but was also playing it up. "That could scar me psychologically! I'm gonna need to talk to therapist again!"

Haymitch threw a look pleading for support to Effie, and she gave him a peck, like he'd originally intended. Her eyes promised she'd finish what he started after the kids had gone to bed.

"Come on Dion," she called, stepping back from Haymitch. "It's your turn to help me in the kitchen tonight. Let's get dinner started."

Without further complaint the teenage boy fell into line behind his aunt and went to the kitchen. Haymitch looked over to his remaining eight year old charge.

"What do you want to do Lysa?"

She paused in thought. Then her eyes lit up in a way that on her aunt always meant Haymitch was going to be forced to do something he'd hate.

"Can you teach me to dance?"

"What?" he spluttered. "You know how to dance! You go to those stupid dance classes don't you?"

"That's dancing on your own or with a team; not proper ballroom dancing. Pleeeease Uncle Mitch?"

"When are you going to a ball to need to know this?"

"I just want to know how to dance like you did with Aunt Effie at home," the girl said, her face falling at his reluctance.

Haymitch ran a tired hand over his face. He was getting too old for this kind of shit. And now he was legally stuck with her for at least another ten years. Okay, maybe _that_ wasn't so bad, but he didn't think he'd have to deal with this for another six-seven years. If she starts talking boys, bones are going to be breaking when he gets back to Twelve.

"Fine," he conceded.

The quick smile and the glint he saw in her forest green eyes made him feel like he'd just been swindled. Damn he was teaching them too well.

"I'll go put the music on," she exclaimed rushing off to the stereo before he could change his mind.

Dragging his feet Haymitch followed. As soon as he saw her standing there, happiness glowing in her eyes as she looked at him, Haymitch straightened and smirked back.

He was relieved that she hadn't picked something too fast paced for them to dance to. He went through the spiel he'd listened Effie give Katniss and Peeta repeatedly during the Victory Tour another life time ago. Lysandra listened closely and he could see she was concentrating on taking in what he said.

"I'm impressed you remembered all that," Effie called from the doorway watching them. "Do you want to finish your lesson, or eat first?"

"Eat!" Lysandra answered instantly rushing into the kitchen.

"Really, sandwiches?" Haymitch asked, looking at the small platter.

"We had a big lunch, and we forgot to stop by the shops on the way home," Effie answered with a shrug. "It was this, cereal or ordering in. You know how I feel about too much take out."

He didn't answer, just smiled and gave her cheek a peck before selecting his sandwich.

"Care to help with this dance lesson?" he asked around the food.

"Don't talk with food in your mouth. Honestly Haymitch, how many times have I told you that? Why do you want my help? You were doing just fine."

"I'm sure I'll miss something important that you will bite my head off for," Haymitch commented swallowing his food and giving her a pleading look.

Effie looked at him firmly before she grinned and nodded. They finished off their make-do dinner and all returned to the lounge. Dionysius with his nose in their digital-tablet; no interest at all in a dancing lesson, and sat himself on the couch nearby.

Lysandra picked things up much quicker with Effie offering words of advice and tips from her perch on the second couch's arm; watching them.

"Haymitch you need to relax more if she's going to be able to tell when you're going to make a change like that," Effie called him on, for what felt like the tenth time in the last two minuets. "You can't keep looking back; just keep your eyes on Lysa."

"I can't help it," he grumbled. "The height's all wrong from what I'm used to."

"What you're used to?"

Haymitch looked down and the grin meeting his own meant a least _one_ female in the room knew what he'd meant. Green eyes winked up at him, giving him permission to change partners. Warmth bloomed across his chest at the realisation of how well they knew each other. There was no questioning it; this was his little girl.

"Spin," she whispered an infectious smile on her face, "fast."

Not able to say no to that face he spun her out of his arms so she went crashing into the couch; her laughter filling the room. Before Effie could chastise him, he had grabbed her hand and forcing her to her feet and his arms.

"Ah, much better," he mumbled, holding her close.

"You could have just asked," she sighed flawlessly falling into step with him.

Haymitch hadn't noticed how tricky it really was to dance with Lysandra, until he held Effie in his arms. He kept her close and she followed his lead; blindly trusting him. She knew all his tells better than he did. Dancing with her was easy.

Blue and grey eyes met, and for Haymitch it felt like the rest of the world faded away.

She brushed the hair out of his eyes, and smiling she whispered; "I love you."

Haymitch knew he wouldn't be getting the words out but met her eyes and said all he felt with them.

"I know," she whispered, pecking his cheek.

He buried his nose in her neck, and her smell surrounded him; this was where he belonged; she was home. It was perfect, until the moment was broken.

"Fuck off!" Dion exclaimed from the couch.

"Dion!" Effie chastised, whipping head to look at the boy shocked.

Haymitch had to admit to his own surprise. Sure, the kids knew curses, they lived with him and had met Jo, but they _never_ used it.

The kid suddenly realised they were both looking at him and without saying anything handed the tablet over. Effie accepted it, and saw what had rattled Dionysius. It was an article from some tabloid, the headline read; ' _Trinket's truth exposed!_ ' and under it was a picture of them with the caption ' _Effie Trinket and her former colleague, Haymitch Abernathy, in a tender moment while her charges look on unhappily_ '.

Someone must have been at the train station and caught them in a private moment. In the picture Haymitch was kissing Effie and she was holding on to his face just after they'd stepped off the train. He'd done it to show her his support at their return; she'd been nervous about returning to the Capitol and the memories that might be triggered. Dionysius had been annoyed at Lysandra and Haymitch this morning; Lysandra for kicking him awake moments before the train arrived at the station and Haymitch for laughing at his reaction and not telling Lysandra off. He could be seen glaring behind them, Lysandra looking no happier after fighting with her brother.

"Shit," Effie echoed.

He read over her shoulder;

" _They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but this picture only raises a thousand questions._

 _Is this really Effie Trinket caught in an intimate embrace with her former colleague Haymitch Abernathy? While the man bares a striking resemblance to the former drunk Mentor of Twelve; he appears in better shape than the Capitol has ever seen him. When did he get back a hot body to go with his brooding charm? What has caused him to change? Could it be her influence? Has he whipped himself into shape to win her over?_

 _In this picture an engagement ring can clearly be seen on Trinket's finger. Does this mean wedding bells are in their future? Could it be third times a charm for the unlucky in love former Escort? If you study Abernathy's hands closely a ring can be spotted. Has the wedding already happened? How long have they kept this from the public? A couple that has always refused to comment on the very existence of their relationship; married?_

 _And upon further inspection; two figures can be seen exiting the train with them; the older clearly upset at the display. Does this mean that Trinket's charges do not approve of their apparent relationship? Raising the next question; what means more to Miss Trinket; her charges happiness or her own happiness?_

 _A source close to the couple has refused to comment on their apparent marriage, but did confirm the two have been in relationship for a number of years and have not hidden it from Trinket's wards. They implied that the two may have even started something before the War! They refused to confirm this detail._

 _While rumours of their relationship have been rife since Effie's shock decision to migrate to Twelve with her adoptive children once it's doors officially opened; this is the first photographic evidence that has emerged of them being together._

 _Was it the familiarity of working together for eighteen years and the culmination of all they endured during our recent liberating war that has forged this unlikely match? Indeed, what could a woman with Panem at her fingertips see in a man who disappeared back into the woodworks before the dust of the War he helped organise and execute had settled? What could an isolated place like Twelve offer the former spotlighting socialite? How could such a rough man compare to her string of famous boyfriends and former fiancé's such as Julian Sanders and Phineus Comet; two men at the height of fashion, culture and the epitome of Capitol style and manners?_

 _Or could this be the confirmation of documents indicating the former Escort of Twelve, we all thought we knew and looked up to, was little more than a puppet of our former President? I, of course, mean the unconfirmed document that hit the media two months ago; indicating that our beloved Effie Trinket's, along with a number of other high profile celebrities, time and body was sold to those willing to pay during her time as a Games' Escort. The government, Trinket's lawyer and her spokes person have never confirmed or denied the content of this document._

 _The big question that jumps out at this journalist is; who is the_ _ **real**_ _Effie Trinket, and have we ever really met her?_ "

Haymitch felt his stomach drop. How were they to respond to all this? How the _fuck_ did Effie's status get leaked? And why wasn't he told about this two months ago?

"How much of the article did you read?" Effie quizzed the upset teen.

"All of it," he admitted.

Haymitch cursed. Things were bad enough that Effie didn't even call him on it.

Tears glistened in blue eyes as he asked, "Is it true? The part at the end, did he really do that to you? Did my-"

"It doesn't matter," Effie cut him off. "What happened before doesn't change anything about now."

"Which means yes! That means he, he-"

Thankfully, the boy couldn't get the words out and he fell into Effie's arms on the brink of tears.

Haymitch jumped when he felt a small hand slip into his. He'd been so focused on Dionysius and Effie, he had forgotten Lysandra.

"What is it Uncle Mitch? What's happened?" she asked, looking at him expectantly.

Those innocent green eyes looking at him with such expectation it made him petrified of disappointing her. He sat on the couch and opened his arms to her; without hesitation she fell into his arms.

"You remember what your Aunt and I said about talking to people, especially here in the Capitol? That you have to be careful, because some of them will twist what you say?"

Lysandra nodded, and he could see Dionysius watching him too, calmed by the words Effie was whispering in his ear.

"Well, sometimes they don't need to talk to you to twist things. Some one took a photo and now they're twisting things. What's worse is they're mixing their lies with the truth, so it all sounds bad," he explained.

"Who could've let them know what train we were arriving on?" Effie mused. "Haymitch, you did _invite_ Plutarch to our wedding, didn't you?"

"I know you suggested I invite him, but no," Haymitch admitted.

"Haymitch! Aside from that being just plan _rude_ , that's a slight on Plutarch! You two were thick as thieves for most of the war from all accounts. He could've taken offense and leaked our timetable!"

"No, Plutarch wouldn't have done this. Yeah, I didn't invite him and he knows why. If anything he'll be the source that's refusing to comment definitively. Think about it Princess; who outside of Twelve knows we're married? Beetee, Annie, her boy, Jo; you think any of them would talk to those people?

"What I think happened, is someone just lucked out with our arrival and their publisher was quick to spin something out of nothing. Once that was published things snowballed from there; like it always does. My big question is how do we respond to this? It's only going to continue to grow from here."

"That's the easy part," Effie shrugged. "I'll speak to Jack and get him to release a statement on our behalf announcing that we married in a private ceremony surround by those we love most. We are happy to make these steps together and ask that people respect our wish for things to remain private as we begin a new chapter in our lives. We hope others will take this step in our beautiful new Pamen to continue to break down the rigid structure of the old Panem ways. We will make no mention to any of the other garbage they're putting out and leave it at that."

Haymitch looked at her surprised.

"How long have you been waiting to pop that out Princess?"

She actually rolled her eyes at him. "Honestly Haymitch, most press release statements are to the same effect; most statements follow a formula."

"Huh, who knew?"

"Everyone," the three said together.

They all looked at each other and burst into laughter, Haymitch included.

Without prompting or any protest, Dionysius grabbed the remote and put on his sister's favourite show. The four settled back into the one couch, all leaning into each other watching the soap opera. Haymitch looked over them all; his kids; his wife; his _family_.

* * *

"Don't you dare look back.  
Just keep your eyes on me."  
I said, "You're holding back."  
She said, "Shut up and dance with me!"  
This woman is my destiny  
She said, "Ooh-ooh-hoo, shut up and dance with me."

* * *

 _Please leave a review and let me know what you think. Always happy to know what does or does not work within a story._


	9. 8 AW (pt2)

_Okay, this is the final chapter! Months later and over 27,000 words later... so much for a bunch of quick snap-shots to make a song-fic!_ _I can hardly believe it! I won't be too far from sharing some more stories, in a month or so once RL has calmed. (Ages in the world of fanfiction, but not too long in grander schemes)_

 _I've updated to finish this off because trying to find time to do so next week is too stressful- please make sure you get to read chapter eight too. Pretty fluffy, but I like it. Thanks to all those who have left a comment; bella184ever, ColMikeFuser, nikatsu, BlackCat46, and !_

 _So, on with the show..._

* * *

Haymitch laughed as Beetee told him about the disastrous way his assistant had asked another researcher in their department out. To make things worse she hadn't realised the woman was already married and had asked in front of her husband.

"Who did she think he was?" Haymitch asked, slightly breathless.

"Her brother," Beetee answered with a chuckle.

Haymitch laughed some more as he pictured that scene, and soon felt a small body press into his side. Turning his head he saw Lysandra leaning into his shoulder looking exhausted.

"Hey Lysa," he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, "you tired?"

Silently she nodded, and buried her head in his neck. Haymitch check his watch and saw it was nearing eleven. No wonder she was tired.

"Go find your aunt and we'll head off home," he offered, jostling her head with his shoulder. "I ain't carrying you home girl; you're too big for my old back to manage."

She ignored his jib and kissed his cheek before rushing off to find Effie; energised at the thought of going home. He shook his head, standing and shaking Beetee's hand in farewell.

"Mitch," he called, just before he turned to leave. "They'd all be happy and proud of you. Chaff, Lyme, Mags, Wiress," his voice caught on the last name, but clearing his throat he quickly went on, "all of them; they'd be glad you found happiness with Effie, and proud that you took the chance on it. I know I am."

Haymitch was momentarily stunned. He forgot how hard these things would be for the elder Victor. He often became so caught up in Dionysius's and Lysandra's lives and needs that he didn't look back on those who didn't make it to the other side of the War. Meanwhile Beetee was furthering Wiress's research; an every day reminder she wasn't here to do it herself.

Would they be proud of this life he's forged? One look at Beetee's eyes and he knew they would.

"Thanks," he chocked out, and pulled the smaller man into brief hug.

Two pats on the back and they were soon stepping away from each other; Haymitch to do his good-bye rounds, and Beetee to find someone else to talk to.

Haymitch found Effie talking with Annie, her boy leaning on her the same way Lysandra had been on him.

"We could take him home with us now, and you could bring Dion home when you're ready to leave," Effie offered, running her fingers through the kid's auburn hair.

"I don't want to bother you," Annie said bitting her lip. Hyamitch could see she wanted to stay, but her boy was clearly asleep on his feet.

"Don't be stupid, Annie. We're about to take Lysa home now, and we're farming a kid back to you too. You're the one that's gonna have to keep an eye on trouble," Haymitch scoffed. Kneeling he looked into sleepy sea green eyes and offered, "You wanna piggy-back to our place?"

The kid looked to his mum for confirmation; she nodded gratefully, and he gave Haymitch a big smile. In that moment, Haymitch could've sworn he was looking at Finnick Odair again; this boy looked _so_ much like his father, it nearly winded him. Trying to hide how flustered he'd become Haymitch focused on getting the boy settled on his back.

He hadn't taken more than ten steps away from Annie's table before the boy was a dead weight on his back.

Dionysius was suspiciously happy to get to stay till Annie and Jo were going to leave. The look Jo was giving Haymitch wasn't making him feel any better about this either.

"Remember; no alcohol, you're still under-age. And don't do anything that causes trouble."

He wasn't sure which of them he was directing this to more, and he was aware it was hypocritical of him to impose this, but he didn't care.

Dionysius raised his hands defensively and gave him his most innocent expression.

It wasn't until they reach the next group he realised neither Dionysius or Jo had promised him anything. Damn! He _was_ teaching them too good.

When it came to the newly married couple; there was a lot of blustering, and more than a few tears from Effie, as they wished them all the best for their honeymoon.

It was all fine, until Lysandra sleepily offered, "Congratulations Mr and Mrs Mellark."

Then Effie lost it _again_ , but so did Katniss, and Haymitch saw Peeta was more than a bit misty at the words. With many eye rolls and droll comments Haymitch managed to get his girls out of the place and on the road home.

Once they were home, both kids were changed and, in the Odair kid's case; back, asleep in less than ten minuets. Haymitch and Effie settled on their back porch both sipping from hot drinks.

"It was a perfect day," Effie sighed.

Haymitch grunted his agreement, as he looked out at their yard. Ten years ago his life was nothing; hating going to the Capitol for the Games, but hating being away from Effie the rest of the year more; sick of watching kids die, but fearful of what they they'd do to another Victor from Twelve; all his closest friends were alive, but none of them were free to live or enjoy their lives.

Everything had changed after Katniss Everdeen volunteered. Sure there are things he wished he could change; but this result; sitting here with Effie now? He couldn't have wished for more.

Haymitch finished off his drink and stood.

He offered his hand out to Effie, "What do you say to one more dance, Princess?"

" _You_ are asking _me_ to dance? I can count one hand how many times that has happened," she teased. "What have you done that's going to upset me?"

Despite her words she accepted his offered hand, putting her drink down. He didn't respond to her verbal bait; he just pulled her to her feet.

Grinning down at her, he swayed to the music they could faintly hear from the wedding party still raging down the street.

"Shut up and dance with me, Mrs Abernathy," he whispered in her ear, a grin covering his face.

* * *

Ooh-ooh-hoo, shut up and dance with me  
Ooh-ooh-hoo, shut up and dance with me

* * *

 _Finit-o!_

 _Please drop me a review! I don't care if it's hours, days, weeks months later; reviews can send me pingging all over the place!_

 _I'm also happy to answer any questions that I haven't covered (or even some that I have, but clarification is needed), either ask in a review or PM me. I can't promise speed in my response, but I will try_


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